


Fuck off, Spencer Reid

by nataliagraey, whOre4Reid34



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Hate, Love/Hate, Tension, enemiestolovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliagraey/pseuds/nataliagraey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whOre4Reid34/pseuds/whOre4Reid34
Summary: Spencer Reid and Y/N don't get along. At all. So why the hell is their cure each other?enemies-to-....IC: @waterloodaydreams !! much lovenew chapters around every 3 days!
Relationships: Reader/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 79
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

"Oh please." you say, snatching a twizzler from Emily. "That's got to be a one in a million chance!"

"Actually, the chances of the average female getting" Spencer clears his throat here, " _together_ with someone different every night of a week is a lot closer to one in-"

"Oh shut it." you murmur, hitting Reid on the head with the end of your twizzler. "Go tell your facts to someone who cares."  


"Well, if you hadn't gotten your facts wrong in the first place I wouldn't have felt the need to correct you." Reid says, noticeably **not** moving away like you had told him to.  


"The need, huh?" you say, resting back on your desk. "I imagine the girls don't feel that way about you often."  


Emily choked, shoving a twizzler in her mouth and staring at Reid in an "I'm so sorry" look as her eyes water from the force of her keeping in her laugh.  


Reid just takes a twizzler, grabs two of your pens, and strides off.  


You gape after him, pointing an accusing finger as you stare at Emily. "My pens-" you sputter, spinning around towards his desk as you think of an adequate act of retaliation.  


You stomp over, browsing his desk. Paperwork, pens, books, and his bag, with something falling out of it. You frown, moving the strap of his bag to see what it is. Bingo. You pull the navy blue glasses case out, rattling it to make sure it wasn't empty. You had no idea Spencer wore glasses. You hesitate briefly, trying to imagine it. You frown down at the case. Imaginary Reid totally pulls them off, and you're jealous. You never did like the look of glasses on you.  


"I steal your 50 cent pens and you steal my $115 glasses? Really smooth, Y/L/N."  


You jerk, startled to find him behind you. "Yeah, well, thought I'd do you the favor. I can't really see glasses working for you." lie. "Not that anything else really works for you," you say, making a sympathetic face. "you know, if you just tell your mother to stop, I'm sure we could rid your closet of sweater vests in no time."  


Reid narrows his eyes at you, coming uncomfortably close as he pushes past you and snatches the glasses out of your hand. "These were in my bag." Reid says matter-of-factly, frowning back at you. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to go through others' belongings? Or were your parents too busy ignoring you to care?"  


He pulls his bag on over his shoulder and you step out of his way, immediately regretting doing anything for that sorry son of a bitch to make his life easier.  


He smirks down at you rudely, and leaves with a condescending and completely sarcastic "thanks," as he pointedly says goodbye to everyone but you.  


You roll your eyes like a child and go back to your desk, sitting down to complete your few remaining case files. Damn that Spencer Reid and his lightning-fast reading abilities. You reach for your normal pen, only to find that it's gone. You sigh dramatically, but end up just pulling open your desk drawer to reveal an entire case of pens.  


What can you say? They were on sale.

You linger at the office, not wanting to go over to your apartment and have to start unpacking the last of your boxes. You moved in a few weeks ago, when you joined the BAU, but a recent influx of cases kept you pretty busy and you haven't been able to unpack or say hello to your neighbors. Not that you'd say hello to your neighbors. The less they know about you, the better.  


You sigh, finishing the last of the paperwork and submitting them to the tray.  


As you head out, you run into Emily, on her way out as well.  


You both get into the elevator in comfortable silence, only for it to be broken a few seconds later by Emily saying, "I do wish you two would just fuck and get it over with."  


You choke on air, doubling over and looking up at Emily with a look of horror in your eyes. She looks concerned for a moment, probably because you're still coughing, but you regain control of yourself soon enough. "I..." you trail off, eyes wide as you stare at her.  


She smirks, brushing a bit of her hair to the side. "Oh, and I meant to ask. Does this shirt make me look too slutty? I think Sergio might have stretched out the neckline." she asks, adjusting her shirt in the reflection of the elevator doors.  


"Uh, no. You look great, as always." you say, mind still reeling over what she said about you fucking Reid. What the hell would that be like? How would you even- No. STOP. You are NOT thinking about fucking Spencer ASSHAT Reid right now. Besides, you're not one to have one-night stands. There's no way you and Reid would go on dates first anyways, so fucking is off the table. 100%.  


The elevator doors ping open, and Emily strides out. She smiles back at you, radiant teeth on full display. "I hope you can still sleep after all that fantasizing." she calls, blowing a kiss before exiting out to the opposite end of the garage from where you're parked. You flip her off, and she smiles again before the doors fully close.  


You drive home, parking and deciding to walk up the stairs instead of the elevator. You know exercising doesn't make you tired enough to fall asleep, but you keep on doing it anyways, never truly giving up on trying to find a way to naturally get over insomnia. You reach your floor, debating whether or not you should take the melatonin pills or just suffer on the couch while re-binge watching Gilmore Girls.  


You step onto your floor, hating how wide-awake your mind and senses feel. You suddenly come to a stop, mind blanking as you stare at Reid. Spencer Reid. On your floor. In sweatpants and an MIT hoodie, car keys in one hand and phone in the other. In return, Reid stares at you, and you notice that the keys that have been slowly slipping over his fingers are about to hit the ground.  


You point at them, making a choked sound, random pictures of broken keys running through your head. He doesn't realize fast enough, and his keys fall to the ground, making a sad clinking noise against the hard floor. You both just stare at them, then back up at each other, and finally, finally, you step forward, approaching him like a wild deer. You don't want to believe it, gods you don't want to believe it. The smart-ass living in your apartment building? On your floor? At this rate you're just praying that you're not next-door neighbors or something. There's no way. The odds of that are... well, Reid would probably know the odds of that.  


He bends down to pick up his keys slowly, then straightens up and proceeds to briskly walk past you, his long legs making quick work of the hallway length.  



	2. Literally just shut up, please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll do my best to keep a regular updating schedule! much love

You knew Reid wasn't exactly the athletic type, but oh my god. "MOVE FASTER!" you yell softly at his back, suffering behind him on the staircase. Reid had been extra obnoxious since the late-night apartment encounter, but neither of you have spoken of it. Reid simply takes another step, then actually _bends down to tie his shoe laces._

This fucking pillock. You rear up with your bag, very much prepared to swing at him, when Hotch rounds the corner.

Right now you might be wondering, why don't you just move around him, Y/N? Well, I'll tell you why. Even in the FBI there are dumb-ass adolescents who like to jump and slide down staircase handles. The bureau closed off the main staircase to fix what the little shits broke, and now everyone is taking the elevators. Everyone except Spencer Reid, that is. Now you're stuck on the narrowest staircase in the world with a sorry mess of a boy blocking your way and making you late to work for the second time that month.

Reid straightens up, apparently done tying his already-tied shoes, and briskly walks into the pit room. Hotch raises an eye at him as he walks by, then turns his look on you. You huff quietly and angrily, practically marching up the stairs and to your desk. Emily immediately sees your bad mood, and slumps back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh god, will this bitch-whine rivalry never end? I have to work with both of these buggers every fucking day." she mutters, sitting back up-right and resuming her paperwork with a knowing look at you. You jab your pen over your shoulder in Reid's general direction, glaring down at your paperwork.

You don't know why he ticks you off so much. Probably because of his mismatched socks. No, that's actually kind of adorable. But not on him. Definitely not.

Anyways.

Maybe it's because he looks like a stupid cowboy with his gun holster positioned practically over his dick. Maybe it's because he wears his watch over his sleeve like some kind of idiot. Maybe it's because he's Doctor Spencer fucking Reid and thinks he's smarter than you. I mean sure, he's smarter than you, but there are times when _we get it._

Reid walks by your desk, dragging his nails across the surface like he knows you hate. "Hey Em, could I borrow a pen?" he asks, moving to stand beside Emily. I scoff. "What, lost the two you took from me already? Remind me never to trust you with any of my belongings." you retort, waving a pen tauntingly in front of his face. He turns to look at you with a confused look that you would've thought was genuine had you not known him. "But.. you touched those. I obviously threw them away." he says, his eyebrows drawn together.

You throw your hands up in defeat, finishing one last sheet of paperwork before flipping him off with your pen and heading over to JJ's liaison office.

Nice and far away from Reid.

"Hey babe," you say, leaning on the doorway and smiling at her. JJ looks up from her stack of case files and smiles, gesturing for you to come in and shut the door. "What's up?" she asks, tossing her pen to the side of the desk where it promptly rolls off.

What's with people and throwing pens away?

"Reid." you groan, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs. JJ and Reid are practically besties, but even JJ had chastised Reid in the past for being a pompous dick to you. Of course, right after, she had turned and chastised you, too.

Sorry, mom.

She lets out a small laugh, coming to sit in the other empty chair next to you.

A thought occurs to you. "Hey Jay," you start, craning your neck to stare at her without moving your body. "do you know what apartment complex Reid lives in?"

JJ groans, getting up and going back to her seat. "No way I'm telling you. You'd just egg his P.O. box or something."

You hesitate, wondering if you should tell her about seeing him at your apartments, but decide to just play along. "Ah, but you know how much Reid loves eggs! I'd simply be supplying him for the week." (We both know Reid doesn't like eggs.) "Hmph." JJ mutters, staring at the pile of case files like she was trying to make them disappear with her eyes.

"Tough load?" you ask, curling up in the chair and dimly remembering your own stack of paperwork waiting for you. "You know," JJ says, turning her blue eyes on you. "We all see horrible cases, horrible corpses, read about horrible things.. but the way I see it, I have to bear witness to like, 20 times the amount you guys do just looking through files." she said, gingerly picking one up and flipping it open dejectedly. "I'd take a rough media crowd over this right about now." she says with a sigh.

You snort, getting up to leave her to her work. "Yeah, I'm sure being hassled by reporters is an absolute joy." you say before blowing her a kiss from the door. She catches it, but her hand just falls to the desk as she forgets about it and falls back into her work. You acknowledge how many horrors JJ has to know and learn about daily, walking back to your desk and glaring at Reid when you see that your pen is gone.

You open your drawer to get yet another, only to discover the entire pen box gone as well. "You fucking sorry piece of shit "doctor" Reid and your bullshit degrees Mr. I-graduated-high-school-at-twelve-years-old give me back my FUCKING pens you little shit." you rant, storming over to his chair and spinning it around so he's facing you.

He has both of his hands on the arm rests, his legs open in a relaxed manner as he smiles up at you.

"Problem?" he asks, twirling one of your pens around in his fingers before making it disappear like the stupid phony little magician he is. You mutely register that he's touching something that your 'it's actually safer to kiss' hand has touched, silently egging on the germs that you're sure are crawling about all over the surface.

You hold out your hand, giving him the best death glare you can muster. He spins back towards his desk, opening his drawer and reaching in for something. He spins around to face you, and you have to keep yourself from slapping him. In his hand is a little black pen, the words, 'shut up' written very eloquently on the side in silver.

You glare at him again before shrugging. If it works, it works. Despite being an awful little git, you wouldn't suspect Reid of secretly watching you through a pen-camera or anything like that.

The ink flows, and you continue your paperwork, the pile daunting.

Reid leaves early, like always, his stupid little brain giving him the advantage. You sigh and keep working, snacking on the graham crackers you had brought that morning. 

At the end of the day, the paperwork is over, and you put the 'shut up' pen into your _locked_ drawer. You don't care what it says on it, Reid isn't stealing any more of your pens. You snatch a box of paperclips off Reid's desk as you head out, dimly wondering when your next case is going to be.

Wrong fucking question, Y/N.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pt 3 soon
> 
> please leave kudos if you are enjoying it! Thanks
> 
> Nat's Notes: I didn't know how to end this chapter?? Like I feel that the shut up pen was a bit uncharacteristic. Idk, my brain is failing me rn. Comment ideas, I'll always be here to revise the story. much love


	3. No, Never.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION!!!  
> I edited the ending of the last chapter because I didn't like it. Please make sure you're aware! much love

The Gang  
G: Round table ASAP! Hope I'm not interrupting anyone... (delivered 4:28 am)  
Y/N: If anyone says a word about my pajama pants. (delivered 4:30 am)  
EM: Anyone want a twinkie from my fridge? (delivered 4:30 am)

You groan, pulling your phone off the charger and heading into your bedroom to grab your go-bag. You had opted not to take the melatonin pills last night. You hate the idea of being forced into an unconscious state, even if you hadn't slept more than 6 hours in the past two days. You sigh, pulling out your slacks and deciding it would probably be best if you didn't _actually_ wear your pajama pants to work.

You'd never been called on a case this early. You knew when you took this job that it would be an on-call 24/7 kind of deal, but this early must mean that the case is time-sensitive. Like a child-abduction case. You send up a small prayer that that wouldn't be it, and quickly rush through your morning routine.

Suddenly, you remember that Reid is coming too. Maybe you could catch him out in the hallway? There was always the possibility that he had been at your apartments... _visiting someone_ , but you don't really find it likely.

The thought of confronting him simultaneously makes you want to get ready faster and want to vacuum your entire apartment.

You're out of the door in record time.

You stand out in the hallway for a timed 2 minutes, pulling out your phone in case he does come and you're left standing there looking like some stalker.

You turn around and start walking towards the stairs, half-running because you had actually waited 4 minutes and don't want to be late. You hear a door open behind you, and your heart spikes. Why? You don't know. You turn, and there he is.

Spencer Reid.

This time there's no stopping and staring as he walks straight towards you, mouth set in a firm line. "If you have something to say, say it on the way. We're late." he mutters, pushing open the staircase door.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't have been late if I hadn't been waiting-" you cut yourself off, horrified. Reid doesn't say anything, but you know he's pieced it together. So much for not looking like a creep.

"How long have you been living here?" you hiss, ducking under his arm as he holds the door open for you out to the parking lot.

"Longer than you." he replies, walking at a pace that makes you groan.

"Which apartment number? I swear if you're right next to me-"

"I'm not." he says, stopping. "I'm 247, right next to the guy across from-" this time Reid is the one to cut himself off, and you're the one to piece it together. You gape up at him. "You knew for sure that I lived on your floor and you didn't say anything?" you exclaim, dimly noticing that he was standing next to your car. 

Reid had walked you to your car. From the apartment complex you shared. What the fuck.

It's dark, but you're pretty sure you see his neck flush. "I saw you waiting in front of your door when I looked through my peephole. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you were waiting for me?" he smirks.

"Oh don't you smirk at me, Spencer Reid. You're the one who looked out of your peephole long enough to see that I was waiting for... something. Besides, I was standing at my door for like four- I was standing at my door for a while." you clear your throat. "How long were you staring at me out of your stupid little peephole anyways?" you ask, leaning against your car.

He shrugs, starting to walk off towards what you assume is the direction of his car.

"Oh, now you're going to kill the planet too? Haven't you heard of carpooling?" you call out at his back. You realize then that you had NOT thought that through as Reid stops and turns to look at you, only a few feet away. His jaw tenses, and you see his hand tighten on the strap of his bag, before he gives you a small nod and brushes past you to climb into your passenger seat.

What the fuck did you just do? Reid's in your fucking BMW.

Reid rolls down the window, sticking his head out. "Are we going, or not?" he asks, his little obnoxious voice piercing the silence.

You make a face at him, but quickly get into the driver's seat and get going. You hope no one notices that you and Reid arrive at the same time.

Reid pulls out his phone and types something, and you feel your phone buzz from your pocket. You ignore it, figuring he just sent something on the group chat. A moment later, Reid types something again, and you feel your phone buzz again. This happens 9 more times by the time you park at the airport, and you turn and glare at him once the engine's off.

"What in the world could have prompted you to text the group chat 11 times? If this is about Emily's twinkies, I'm pretty sure you don't want them." you say, stepping out of the car and walking quickly towards the air strip, still having not checked your phone. You and Reid both show your badges to the airport workers and climb up into the jet.

You internally groan, and you can practically sense Reid doing the same behind you. There was only one seat left, and you knew it was purposeful by the way the rest of the team occupied as much seating as they could. Morgan and Emily were literally laying stretched out on the couch chairs, smirking up at you and Reid from their supine positions.

You hike up your bag, figuring that if you two had to sit together, you may as well take the window seat.

Hotch starts the briefing, and, as you had suspected, it was about a child abduction. Actually, it was about _two_ child abductions.

You see JJ biting her lip, and you can tell that the rest of the team is tense as well. No one, not even Reid, says the statistics out loud. The ones that pretty much mean a death sentence if we don't get the two little girls back in less than... 19 and a half hours. They had both been taken around midnight, from two different neighborhoods across town. Both were 9, neither apparently knew the other. There didn't seem to be much to go on, and you hoped there would be more in South Carolina, where you were currently flying to.

You knew you had done a poor concealment job on your eye bags, but you still couldn't make yourself sleep. At least they didn't look as bad as Reid's, his were bloody awful. You briefly wonder if he has insomnia too. It's not like his lack of sleep is because he's getting busy all the time.

You sigh and pull out your phone. You're surprised to see, that no, Reid had _not_ texted the group chat 11 times. He had texted _you_ 11 times. You read through them.

REID SUCKS  
R: ever heard of air-fresheners?  
R: did you know that 4 out of a million BMW owners have fatal crashes  
R: I can hear the chapstick rolling around in your center console compartment  
R: It's annoying, like you.  
R: makeup is crazy. I can barely see your huge eye bags.  
R: I suppose I'm one to talk  
R: at least I have my chronic insomnia as an excuse  
R: you probably just stay up late watching trashy television  
R: you just ran a red light  
R: I thought you would have caved and looked at your phone by now  
R: I'm not impressed, of course. I wouldn't have either.  
Y/N: I'll have you know that I _did_ stay up watching television. It was not, however, trashy, and you're not special. I have insomnia too, dingbat.

With that, you put your phone down and open the case file again with a sigh.

This was going to be a quick case, you just hope it ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me, humbly holding out my hands and asking for kudos*
> 
> pt 4 soon!


	4. Would You Guys Just Quit it Already?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey you guys, I know I've said it before, but you all should check out @waterloodaydreams' story which is where I got my inspiration :)

An hour and seven minutes later, you're starting to suspect that Hotch is in on 'The Plan.'

'The Plan' is the ridiculous scheme first cultivated by the one and only Ms. Penelope Garcia to get you and Reid together. It was your third day on the team, and the flamboyant Garcia had come sidling up to you, talking about how cute you and Reid would be and how you two were the perfect age and how you guys' babies would look adorable. You had thought she was delusional. 

Can we get a drug test on aisle four? 

It had only been thirty-six hours and Reid had corrected practically everything you had said. Add onto that the fact that you had accidentally screwed up one of the geographic profiles, and you started to let your annoyance out on Reid. Thus started the feud, and now it's several weeks later and still going on strong. 

You sigh, standing up and stretching your long-dormant muscles. Hotch had assigned you and Reid to go to the most recent abduction site together, which is a ten minute drive away. Oh, joy. 

The two of you would be leaving directly from the airport, and Hotch had practically urged you to ignore stop signs. Emily had told you earlier that ever since Haley had gotten pregnant, Hotch had been even more concerned where children were involved in cases than before. You hop in the driver's seat, yielding absolutely zero resistance from Reid. Guess he's not one for driving. 

"Can you do directions?" you ask, turning left out of the airport parking.  
"Well, first off, you should've turned right." Reid says.

You spare him a quick glare.

"Turn left on Bradley." 

The banter continued, Reid constantly reminding you how far over the speed limit you were, that you hadn't come to a complete stop at the stop sign, how you hadn't slowed down enough over the speed bumps. In return, you told him to fuck himself, to shove his head up his ass, and to please flip off some sedan that had cut you off. 

He didn't.

You finally reach the site, and Reid critiques your parking job. You introduce the both of you to the local police, pronouncing Reid's name like 'raid.' One of the police leads you to the girl's Savannah's room, and you jab Reid in the side with your elbow when he steps on the heels of your shoes. 

"This is it. Nothing apparently out of place. Forensics couldn't find anything. Feel free to touch stuff." the policeman said, taking his leave.  
"So." Reid murmurs, stepping into the middle of the room and looking around slowly. "They came in through the unlocked window, then... what?"  
"Well," you say, standing next to the bed, "the sheets are thrown back, but they're not too messy, so she probably either knew the unsubs or is calm under pressure." you frown over at Reid. "I still have a Pillow Pet from fourth grade. Isn't it a little odd that there isn't a single stuffed animal in here?" you ask, looking under the bed for some.  
Reid frowns, digging through a toy bin. "You're right. We should ask the parents, maybe she took one with her? Her room is relatively neat, too. All the toys in one bin, even all of her shirts hung up. It's not perfect enough to be OCD, but this does seem a little uncharacteristic for a nine year old." he says, his voice tapering off as he thinks.

You open your notes app, starting to write down the questions before remembering that Reid has an eidetic memory. There's no need. Gods, even his genetics piss you off. He's a genius _and_ has a photographic memory? Lucky little bastard. 

You see a charger hidden away behind the bed, and see that it would plug into an ipad. "Hey Reid. Come look." you say, scooting over on the mattress.  
"Look here," you say, pointing at the cord. "It's tucked into the bed, like she was trying to hide it. It plugs into an ipad, but I don't see one around."

"Hmph.." Reid murmurs, his face close to yours. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and quickly pull back and off the bed. You dust off your hands and clear your throat, looking around for anything else.

You and Reid end up staying for a few more minutes, but neither of you can deduce much more and end up getting back in the car and heading to the station, texting Hotch to update him. Hotch replies, telling us to ask our questions to the mother. Apparently she's waiting at the station and hasn't left since she got there. 

Reid asks the questions and you calm the mother, urging her to go home and get some rest after her answers yield a few results. Yes, Savannah has a giraffe stuffed animal. No, Savannah is not a neat freak, and her room is often a mess. Yes, Savannah has an Ipad, but she's not supposed to bring it into her room or use it at night.

The ipad wasn't found in any other areas of the house and neither was the giraffe, so you have to assume Savannah or the unsubs have them both. An effort by Garcia to track the ipad comes up negative. However, it is shown that the ipad was last turned on at 12:09 am, way after Savannah was supposed to be sleeping. Does this mean that Savannah was awake and aware of the unsubs, or that one of the unsubs had turned it on when he had come to kidnap her? Garcia then chimes in with the very helpful news of what the ipad was being used for, and after some serious internal debate, you and Reid both come to the conclusion that Savannah had probably been the one watching Mako Mermaids on Netflix and not the unsubs.

Thanks to the ipad, you have an established timeline. The first girl, Mara, had been taken at exactly midnight, shown by the security cameras on her house that had captured two men in black hoodies and a dark, large-ish vehicle. Reid calculates that with the traffic at that time of night, it should have taken closer to 5 minutes to reach Savannah's house, meaning that the unsubs had very briefly stopped somewhere on the way to store Mara. 

You yawn, and Reid follows suit. Reid sits down across from you, opening the case file again even though you know he already has it all memorized.  
"So." Reid starts, looking up at you. "You have insomnia too?"  
You nod, feeling too tired for a verbal response.  
Reid taps his fingers on the desk, but doesn't say anything more until Morgan and Rossi come back from the first abduction site.  
You guys compare notes and determine that both sites were cleaned up during or after the abduction, most likely by the unsubs.

_(fast forward a bit because I'm writing for the romance and the cases are just here to establish the basis of your future trauma)_

The team determined that the daughters had been abducted by the estranged fathers, working in tandem.

Garcia taps her computer keys and finds the most likely storage site, an old veterinarian's office between the two houses. You and Morgan head to the back entrance, Morgan kicking down the door (of course) and you calling out that the FBI are here. You find the daughters, sitting in a locked room and watching tv. Savannah's father rushes at you with a gun, but Morgan shoots him before he can get a shot off. You catch him as he falls, surprised, and his weight takes you down to the floor. He dies with your hands on his chest, trying to staunch the bleeding. 

It was the first person to die on one of your cases, and you were the last person he knew.

You get on the plane, way too tired to complain when Morgan shoves Reid next to you and he knocks into your side. You rest your head back on the seat, falling into a troubled sleep as you try to dig imaginary blood out from under your finger nails. 

You wake up an hour later, surprised at how easy you slept. You feel something on your cheek, warm and a bit... hard? (oh my god get your heads out of the gutter)

You startle and sit up, staring at Reid in mortification. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder. On _Reid's_ shoulder.

He continues looking forward, jaw clenched and expression unreadable. Unfortunately, everyone else on the plane hadn't been as sleep-deprived as you. Namely, Morgan. You pull out your phone fearfully, a feeling of apprehension washing over you as you open the group chat. There you are, lying on Reid's shoulder, only this time Reid's expression is clear. Humour. He has his hand behind your head, making a pair of bunny ears for the camera. Despite yourself, you smile, and secretly save the photo to your gallery.

Morgan grins at you from the opposite side of the plane when you look at him, pearly whites on full display. "Have a good sleep... Y/N?" he asks with a snicker, and Emily's expression is just as sinister and pleased. You roll your eyes but smile, pulling your knees to your chest.

You pull out your phone one last time, and fire off a text to Reid.

Y/N: sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me, writing my little sentences, holding my frog hat out for you to place your kudos in*
> 
> Nat's Notes: I've been writing a lot lately and I'm so scared of burnout/writer's block... anyways school's being a bitch rn.


	5. sleeping is overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just don’t question it you guys... much love

You get in your car, and Reid gets in as well. You drive back, still digging under your fingernails for the blood that’s been long washed out. You can’t help it, there had been so much that it’s hard for you to believe it’s all gone. 

You clear your throat, taking an imaginary shot of vodka to prepare you for the conversation. “About me falling asleep on your shoulder, sorry, again. Feel free to just push me off next time.” your voice barely betrays your nerves, and you give yourself a little mind-pat on the back. 

Reid taps his fingers on the center console once, staring forwards. “Next time?” he asks, his voice lined with some emotion you can’t name. 

You blush, digging your nails into the wheel. You don’t say anything more, and you both get out of your car when you reach the parking lot. 

You both take the stairs, and you wonder what Reid’s reasons for that are. Maybe he’s scared of elevators crashing or something. 

You hesitate at the top of the staircase, one hand on the door and the other by your side, still digging under your nails. “thatwasthebestsleepivehadinfourmonths.” you mutter, facing the door. 

“Same.” Reid says equally as quietly, not moving from behind you. You whirl around, surprised. “You slept on me too?” you ask, cursing Morgan for not taking a picture. 

Reid smirks, stepping up next to you and holding the door open. “Actually, I slept with my head on the seats. I have this thing called restraint?” you swat at him lightly before ducking under his arm and standing out in the hallway. 

“Whatever.” you mutter angrily, walking over to your door and digging through your purse for your keys. Reid follows you, leaning against the wall next to your door. 

You sigh, you’re carrying too many things to properly get your key out of your bag. Reid just holds out a hand, then grabs your go bag off your shoulder when you don’t do anything. “Thanks.” you murmur, pulling out your keys successfully. You open the door, walking straight in and forgetting your bag. 

You stare at Reid with eyes wide when he steps into your apartment, but of course he’s just returning your bag. That’s the only reason why Reid would ever come into your apartment. Start breathing again, will you? 

You nod your thanks, and Reid gently deposits your bag on your couch before leaving and shutting the door behind him. You look around your messy, unpacked apartment, and sigh. You may as well clean it up since you won’t be able to sleep. 

You realize you’re still digging under your nails and quickly separate your hands, taking deep breaths. You tell yourself there’s nothing you could have done, but you hardly believe yourself. Gathering your resolve, you grab your keys and phone before marching out of your apartment and heading to the library to get some first aid books. 

Your apartment is empty when Reid comes back and knocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I sprinkle a little jemily in here... yes or no comment please 😏
> 
> also oooh why was Reid coming back


	6. I Still Hate You, By The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw mention of blood !
> 
> it might seem a bit confusing?? IDK. Just hang tight for chapter 7! much love

You dig under your nails frantically, the skin underneath red and scratched up. Your hands are shaking, your breaths are uneven. "Get it out get it out get it out." you hiss to yourself. You stumble out of the bathroom, running to your living room and looking through the business cards you've kept in a pile until you find the one that's taped shut. You quickly open it, dialing the number. 

"Hello?" you hear a deep and rough voice ask, sounding as if they had just woken up. You look at the clock, cursing yourself. Of course he sounded that way, it was 2 in the morning.  
"I'm so sorry Rick, I lost track of the time and didn't think before calling you-"  
"Hey, no, Y/N, it's fine. Is everything alright? How's the new job?"

You hesitate, your left hand digging under it's nails while your right hand holds your phone up to your ear.

"Hey," Rick says softly, hearing your hesitation and switching into therapist mode. "hey, it's okay, it'll be okay. I'm here for you. Do you need to come over?"  
You shake your head before remembering he can't see you. "No, no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called this late. Well actually I guess it's this _early_ since it's morning. Look, I'm sorry again. I'll call you later, k?"  
"No, wait, Y/N-" 

You hang up, and the digging becomes painful as your vision becomes blurred by tears. You hear your phone ringing, and you quickly quiet it, stuffing it into your purse. 

You pace, balling your hands into fists and seeing the unsub's body fall, seeing the blood spatter and run over your hands. You see him take his last breath, you feel his hands clawing at your forearms. You're out the door before you can think, running to room 247 and knocking on the door, trying not to seem too frantic. 

Reid opens the door with a scowl. Upon noticing your tears and the fact that your hands are shaking, his entire demeanor changes.

"Y/N what's wrong? What happened? Quick, get in." he asks, his voice calm but hurried. He pulls you behind him and shuts the door, glancing once through the peephole. He grabs you by the shoulders, bending down so that his face is level with yours. "Y/N, just answer one question for me right now, okay?" you nod. 

"Do I need to get my gun." he asks, voice steady.

You quickly shake your head, taking a step back. "No, no, nothing like that. Look, I'm sorry, it's just that I'm not feeling well and you were the only one close and it's two in the morning and I know you have insomnia-"  
"Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Relax. Sit down. What happened?" Reid asks, gently pushing you onto his sofa.  
You rock and tap your foot, digging under your nails. You take a deep breath, avoiding Reid's eyes and regretting your decision to come here with every passing second. "I'm sorry. I just... keep seeing his face when he fell. When he died. And I can't stop feeling like his blood is under my fingernails." you throw your hands up helplessly, the raw skin around your nails and nail beds hitting the couch painfully. 

Reid lets out an anxious breath, stepping back and sitting in a couch chair. He looks down, his hair falling in front of his face. You stare at your feet, feeling your skin flush from embarrassment. You had just come _Reid,_ of all people, for help, and your brain was starting to make you feel the regret. "I'm sorry." you murmur, wondering if you should just get up and leave.

Reid doesn't say anything, just continues to look down. After a few moments are over, he looks up, making eye contact with you as he clears his throat softly. "There used to be this man on our team, Gideon. He was like a father to me," Reid started, huffing out a small, weak laugh as he directed his attention back to the floor. "One day, the case got personal." his voice became quiet, and you strained to hear what he said next. 

"The unsub killed his girlfriend." 

you gasp softly.

"Yeah. Exactly." Reid says, his jaw clenching and relaxing. "He didn't find it worth it anymore. He left his gun and badge in his cabin, and left, without telling anyone where he was going. He did leave a letter though. To me." Reid laughed ruefully, and you could hear the emotions he was suppressing. "Sometimes I want to do the same thing. Just pack up and leave, find a new job, one where people aren't getting hurt all the time. You see people killed, and... sometimes you kill people to keep them from killing you." His hands fidgeted. "My point is, it's hard, this job. It comes with a lot of trauma and a lot of hurt, both mentally and physically." 

Reid looks up at you, face serious as he places his arms on the sides of his chair. Maintaining eye contact, he says, "I developed a drug problem because I didn't talk to anyone. I was high at work, I was rude to everyone, and I would cry myself to sleep every night, if I even _could_ manage to fall asleep. Right now and forever, putting aside our petty grudges, I will _always_ be here if you need me." you take this in, your mind reeling. Reid, a drug problem? It was hard to imagine, and yet... and yet he seemed hardened. They all did. Like they had been hurt and they had pushed through, over and over and over again. You don't say anything, you can't think of anything to say.

Reid gets up and walks over to the TV, turning it on and switching to one of the entertainment channels. He grabs two blankets from a box before coming over and sitting next to you, offering you one. "I watch trashy TV when I can't sleep, too." Reid admits with a slight smile, tucking his legs underneath him. You smile a bit at the sight of his mismatched socks. If you were being honest, they were adorable. Even on him. Especially on him. You kill that train of thought, accepting the blanket and turning towards the TV.

"Thanks for letting me stay." you murmur, keeping your eyes on the screen.  
"Thanks for seeking help." he murmurs back, and you can feel his eyes on you. You ignore the feeling, continuing to stare at the screen without registering anything that's happening. He soon turns away from you, and you both look at the TV, although you're pretty sure neither of you are really watching. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You yawn, frowning and reaching to rub at your dry eyes. As you bring your hand up, it hits something. Actually, it hits _someone._ Your eyes widen, your mind waking up faster than if you had woken up on train tracks with a boxcar heading straight towards you. You can feel the light pressure of Reid's head on top of yours, and you freeze, not wanting to disturb him. You glance around for your phone to see what time it is, but then you remember you left it in your purse in your apartment. And you are most certainly not in your apartment. 

Thankfully, Reid stirs, making a mumbling sound as he starts to wake up. "What-" Reid mumbles, his voice deep and scratchy from sleep. His eyes open, and he reacts in what was probably the same way you did, his eyes widening and his body jolting a bit. You wince, gently scooting away from him "Good morning?" you say, biting your bottom lip anxiously. You're pretty sure Reid hadn't expected you to fall asleep in his apartment last night. Then again, neither did you. Something about Reid and his stupid boy cologne and body warmth made you feel comfortable. Relaxed. Safe. You kill that train of thought too. 

Reid blinks a few times, his eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the sun streaming through his windows.

"I'm sorry." you blurt out, standing up and taking a step towards the door.  
Reid winces, standing up and stretching. You stare at him, and he stares at you, and you both stand there, not saying anything. 

Reid rubs the heel of his hand into his eye socket, swaying a bit before sitting back down on the couch. "How did you get me to sleep..." Reid mutters, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. 

A moment later, he opens his eyes, and you can tell that he's _actually_ awake now. He blinks twice, rapidly, looking over at you and then down at the two blankets pooled on the floor. "Fuck, did I fall asleep on you? So much for restraint." Reid says, frowning down at his socks.

You stay quiet, glancing over at the door like a trapped deer. You take another step towards the door, then hesitate. "Reid, are there any statistics on... on sleeping better when you're in contact with someone?" you ask, feeling your cheeks flush as he looks up at you. He frowns, then says, "Yes, actually. It's said that touching someone can release serotonin, which in turn creates melatonin, which can help you sleep faster and wake up feeling happier." You nod, pulling at the hem of your shirt. 

You're both silent, you halfway to the door, Reid still sitting on the couch. 

"Well then." Reid says, getting up and putting the blankets away. "It's not time to go to work yet. I'll uh, see you later?" he asks, and you can feel him cringe from here.  
"Yeah!" you reply, your voice way too bright. "See you." You turn and practically run out of the door, scrambling back to your apartment. 

You had left your apartment door unlocked, and your panic mode sets in, but a quick search reveals nothing out of place and no one lurking in the shadows. You sigh, leaning against a wall. You needed to be more careful. Actually, you needed to stop being alone with Reid so much. It was seriously fucking with your mind. There couldn't be two versions of Reid, the snappy one at work and the comforting one at... when, night? When you're trying to sleep? When you're sobbing and scratching your hands bloody?

You splash your face with water, taking a quick shower. You know your hair is still going to be a bit damp when you get to work, so you throw a brush into your purse. You brush your teeth and wash your face, throwing together a quick breakfast and downing a glass of water. You look in the mirror, and blink in surprise. For only four hours of sleep, your eye bags sure had gone away quite a bit. You smile, putting on a bit of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss. You look well-rested. You look pretty. 

You grab your shit, don your sunglasses, and head to work, not waiting for Reid this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me, filling out my homework with my 'shut up' pen, humbly writing a request for kudos*
> 
> Nat's Notes: Hey guys, it's ya girl, Nat... might just go read some more jemily fics for... research. Any recs?


	7. So... Reid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no idea where I'm drawing these chapter names from... they don't even relate to the chapters half the time... anyways, is that jemily I see???? much love
> 
> also... it's literally 2:40 am. someone tell me to go to sleep.

"Wheels up in 30."

You keep your hands in your pockets as much as you can, actually thankful to have a case for once. At least now you wouldn't be filling out paperwork with your shredded fingertips on display for the rest of the team to see. One bonus is that the case is in Michigan, and it's winter. No one would question snow gloves. 

When you had stopped in the restroom at work, the... _extent_ of the damage to your hands was evident. You were horrified at yourself. 

Okay now, you might be overplaying it a bit. After all, they weren't bleeding or torn to shreds or anything. Still, they were definitely more damaged than you would have thought yourself capable. You estimated that the damage would take about a week to go away, and at least three days to become less conspicuous. 

You have your go-bag at work, but you still have to go home and grab gear for colder weather. You and Reid finished packing at around the same time, and you run into each other on the stairway down.

"I hope you packed at least 5 layers worth of clothes per day," you say, huffing from the fact that you're carrying bags and running down stairs in heels. "Your skinny little frame is going to be chilled to the bone if you didn't."  
Reid just pulls out a pair of earmuffs, putting them on and increasing his pace down the steps. He reaches the bottom, turning around and calling out, "Did you hear something? I could have sworn I heard someone speaking stupid." You scoff. "NICE ONE." you yell at his receding back, wondering if he can still hear you through the earmuffs.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You arrive at the airport, _alone,_ apparently not so concerned for Mother Earth anymore. You jog up the stairs of the plane, spotting a seat next to Emily and taking it before the team could trap you with Reid again. You suddenly realize that there's a coffee cup in front of you with the name Jennifer on it. 

Oops.

Looks like this spot was already taken. You quickly wiggle out, moving to instead sit across from Emily. She gives you a weird look, somewhere between amused and thankful. Her look became a smile, though, as JJ comes and sits next to her, draping a blanket over both of their laps.

Your attention is diverted from the girls, however, by Reid running onto the plane. You realize, your heart making a weird beat, that there is no seat for Reid. Except the one next to you. Again.

Seriously, was Rossi part of 'The Plan' too? This was getting old. 

You didn't want to have to be awkward next to Reid. He had seen you cry, one of the very few people outside of your immediate family to have done so. He had told you something personal, he had _trusted you,_ and despite your friendly fire on the staircase, you weren't sure how to proceed. 

He clears his throat and slips into the seat, and you hate yourself for wanting to lean into his body heat. It's just because you're cold, okay? 

Speaking of which, you shiver, grabbing an extra sweater out of your bag and unlocking your phone to open the weather app. Before you can type in 'Michigan' to the search bar, however, Reid's voice breaks apart your bubble. 

"Tomorrow's a high of 24 degrees fahrenheit and a low of 17 degrees fahrenheit. It's expected to snow lightly during most of the day and more heavily around 4pm to 6am. They say they're expecting about a foot of snow, but I actually calculated that due to the incoming cold front coming from the northeaest and the recent evaporation levels (I'm literally spewing nonsense, sorry) that it's much more likely to be a foot and a half." he finished, his voice indifferent and professional.

His tone bothered you for some reason that you couldn't really place. I mean, here you are, casually bedecked in layers and less than half a foot away from each other, and... 

and? What were you expecting? It's Spencer. You mean Reid. Not Spencer. Most definitely not on a first name basis with this dippy.

"Right, thanks." you say a bit blandly, throwing your phone back into your bag to land on the soft cushion of a snow jacket. Hotch starts the briefing, and you highlight and annotate the basics in your file. Two men, found strangled and dumped, pelvises broken. Everyone immediately makes the connection of rape and pelvises, but the background check of the men shows no offenses. Still, you all know how few rape victims come forward. You can't eliminate anything. Your incredibly rough preliminary profile is that the unsub's a woman in her mid-30s due to the cleanliness of the crime. You suspect that she may be avenging rape victims who haven't reported the crimes, especially when Garcia uncovers some not-so gentlemanly things in the victims' pasts. You sigh, resting your head against the back of the seat. Don't men ever get tired of doing the wrong thing? Taking advantage of girls and ruining lives? It's why you have the 'Y/N's-at-least-5-dates-and-a-profile' rule when it comes to dating. After 5 dates, if they don't seem too suspicious and you're actually consenting, you'll allow yourself to be alone with them with the knowledge that your defense training could knock them on their ass. 

This time, you make sure you're awake the whole flight. Falling asleep on Reid's shoulder three times in a month was something you don't want to do. 

Not because you didn't like it the first two times, but just because it would be an unnecessary addition to your embarrassment. Not that you _did_ like it, of course. 

You pinch yourself on the inside of your forearm, your mind rifling through random topics to find one to focus on for a while and take your mind off Reid. And how close he was. And how he smelled like he always did, a comfortable and stable factor that never changed. This time you broke skin with your pinch, and you frown down at the reddening welt. Whoops. 

The babiest of blood bubbles breaks through, but still Reid notices. He frowns at you, raising an eyebrow. You make a 'none-of-your-business' face at him, but he just sighs and reaches into his bag. He pulls out a Doctor Who band-aid, and you can't help but giggle. He glares at you and you giggle harder, attracting the attention of Emily and JJ across from you. Reid just rips the band-aid cover off with his teeth and quickly smooths it onto your arm, his warm hands brushing your arm gently. He goes back to his book, sticking the trash remnants in his pocket and leaving you to scrutinize the little blue phone booth displayed on the band-aid. Doctor Who and Doctor Reid. How fitting.

Emily raises an eyebrow at you, while JJ tries furtively to catch Reid's eye. He doesn't look up. They soon lose interest, however, turning back to each other and speaking in hushed tones. Emily laughs, leaning forward and exposing- oh. You look away quickly, but of course the only other place to look is Reid. He turns the page, then turns the page again. You'll never get used to the speed at which this man reads. He soon starts to lag, however, and you realize it's probably because he's aware of your staring. You turn away quickly, trying to tamper down the flush you feel creeping up your neck. You fidget for a few moments before digging in your bag, pulling out your phone and opening messages. 

FAMILY  
Y/N: omw to Michigan. Not anywhere near Aunt Claire, though.  
Mother: did you pack a hat and gloves? what about a scarf.  
Sis: send selfie of you w/ snow. Roseline wants to see. She misses her aunt, for some reason.  
Y/N: It's bc she has good taste. And I will.  
Father: Do you get frequent flier miles?  
Y/N: ....  
Y/N: am wearing gloves and have scarf in bag. no hats. gtg

You sigh and throw your phone back in the bag. You unwrap your jacket carefully to find Pride and Prejudice waiting, undamaged. You've been going through a reading slump lately, and had decided to just re-read some of your favorites. You loved how Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth had tension from the start, and books written with slightly-older English are all the more enticing to you. 

The next thing you knew, Elizabeth is visiting her sick sister Jane and the plane is touching down. You glance over to find that Reid had put his book away, probably having finished it an hour ago. You look out the window to see a light dusting of snow. You smile, it's pretty.

The team gets off the plane, carefully so as not to slip and fall. You make it down the stairs safely, but relax too soon. Your foot slides without traction, and you stumble backwards, your left foot momentarily leaving the ground. You feel solid, warm hands on your back and shoulder, keeping you from falling on your ass. You feel a breath on your neck, and somehow you know it's Spencer behind you, supporting you with his hands. You regain balance, very possibly taking a little longer than you normally would have. You feel winded, and not just from the slip.

"No restraint _and_ a terrible sense of balance? Really Y/N, you're making it so easy." Spencer says, pulling his hands away from your back. You make a small noise in response, your brain feeling a little too much like mush to form a rebuttal. 

"Everyone, be careful on the ice. Stay warm and bundle. The addresses to the hotel, police station, and abduction/disposal sites are on the group chat. You have your assignments." Hotch says. You seek out Morgan, and the two of you head over to the M.E.'s. 

Later that night, you've gotten the profile out, but the suspect pool hasn't been yielding very much useful information. You trudge over to the hotel with Emily and JJ, the two of them huddled together with their elbows hooked. 

"You guys go ahead. I'm going to take a quick video for my niece. Goodnight." you say, waving at Emily and JJ with a smile. You head over nearer the parking lot, where the streetlights allow for the best lighting. You hit start on the video, and hold it up so that it's like a selfie with all of the snow in the background. "Hey Rose! Aunt Y/N misses you! I heard you wanted to see the snow, so here it is." You set your phone on one of the streetlamp cement bases, bending down to shape a snowball. "One day, I'll make sure your mommy takes you out of Texas so you can go build snowmen." You smile at the camera and reach your arm back, starting to aim for just above your phone when you see Spencer get out of a vehicle near you. You make an impulse decision, turning and throwing the snowball at him instead, missing horribly. You giggle, which turns into a full on laugh when you see the expression on Spencer's face.

"I didn't realize your aim was so bad!" Spencer calls, bending down to shape his own snowball. You scramble to make another one, forgetting about the video for a minute. Spencer's incoming snowball hits your shoulder, but you barely feel it. You laugh, throwing your snowball drunkenly in his direction. "That was the weakest snowball I've ever felt!" you yell back, laughing and jumping to the right to avoid another snowball. You hear Spencer laughing, and you suddenly remember the video. You pick up your camera, turning so that it looks like you're taking a selfie with Spencer in the back. He runs up, but you start to turn around too late as he brings the snowball down on your head. You gasp dramatically, placing your phone back down and throwing off your jacket. "Oh you've done it this time," you say, brushing the snow out of your eyes. You gather a snowball, larger than the ones before. Spencer's eyes widen, and he runs, snatching your phone off the streetlight and filming himself running away, occasionally holding the phone up to catch you running behind him. Luck is on your side, and you cut Spencer off as he rounds a tree, smashing the snowball into his chest.

Your hands are on his chest. You can feel him breathing deeply, winded from running. You can feel him looking down at you, but you're staring at your hands, mentally screaming at yourself to remove them. You finally do, stumbling back a bit and laughing weakly. 

You take your phone from his hand, trudging back to where you had thrown your jacket down earlier. Spencer follows you, waiting to walk you back to the hotel. You do so in silence, but you can still feel the warmth radiating from him and seeping into your hands. You both stay silent as you separate and walk into your respective hotel rooms. 

You shower and finish your nightly routine, flopping into bed and watching the video. You watch as Spencer runs away with your phone, his smile wide as he keeps glancing over his shoulder at you. You hear him talk, something you hadn't noticed while you had been running. "Hey it's Spencer Reid here, and I'm being chased by a psychopath who's wielding a snowball. Doesn't she look like a madman?" he asks, holding up the phone to show you running behind him, cradling a ball of snow in your hands with a determined look on your face. He brings the video back down to him, breathing heavily and laughing, his dimples showing as he bends around the tree to meet his fate. You blush deeply as you see yourself on the screen, your hands outstretched in front of you. Spencer's hands are dangling by his sides, so the video only catches your upper torso and top parts of your arms, but you can still tell that you had kept your hands outstretched for longer than what could be considered normal. 

You edit the video, making a shorter and more condensed copy to send to Roseline. Still, you include the very beginning part of your snowball fight with Spencer, figuring it might make her laugh. Your sister's daughter is adorable, and you love her with all of your heart. You hit send and plug in your phone, flopping down onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. You set your alarm and fall into a light sleep, head filled with snowball fights and laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate comments so much! I am casting my line and trying to fish the kudos from your hands...
> 
> Nat's Notes: Almost had a breakdown today because of a school counselor... also I watched like 12 eps of CM. Oh and Rick the therapist will be making another appearance, I did not forget. Well maybe I forgot a little bit. Whatever, his story is not over yet! Y/N is going to be healthy, she's going to go seek help. Be like Y/N! Live your best life. Much love.


	8. Kinky shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pls this chapter is going to be so awkward omfg
> 
> also this chapter is kind of slow... just hang tight for number 9 pls! much love 💖

You hadn't gotten more than 2 hours sleep last night, and they had not been at all fulfilling.

You walk into the police station, and Emily immediately calls for you to come into the temporary FBI workplace. You follow her through the door, and find the entire rest of the team there except Spencer. 

"Does anyone know where Reid is?" Hotch asks, standing up even though there were way enough chairs. Everyone shakes their heads and JJ sends a text, presumably to Reid. JJ's phone chimes, and everyone goes silent, waiting to hear that he's safe. "He says the Big Tank (what we call the FBI SUVs) he's driving just broke down and he was about to call." JJ reads out, and you feel everyone around you let out a collective breath. "Right. Someone's going to have to bring him up to date later, then." Hotch says, pulling out his file and indicating that we should all do the same. He calls Garcia and sets his phone down on the table. "There's another victim. Female this time, and left with her pelvis... intact." You frown, looking at the crime scene photo that Hotch is hanging on the evidence board, then gape. The victim is blonde and naked to the bone except for a sports bra and... a strap. 

You see everyone around you with just about the same reaction, all except Emily and JJ, who just glance at each other and then back down at their files. 

Oh wow. You realize, sitting back in your chair. They are _so_ fucking behind our backs. 

"Right well, we need to rethink the profile. I think the unsub's male." Hotch says, still standing and looking vaguely uncomfortable. You wish someone was recording this. 

You see people nod around you, and you start thinking. If it's a male, what was he gaining from smashing pelvises? 

"The smashing is probably related to impotence," Rossi says, long-since having gotten his surprise under control. 

"I'm not so sure... the actual genitalia was left untouched. You would think the pelvises have importance to the unsub, but the female victim really throws everything off." Hotch says, finally sitting down.  
"Could it be a copycat or a coincidence?" Emily asks, her chair quite close to JJs.  
"No, he left his trademark and parts of his M.O. that haven't been made clear to the public. We need to trash the profile."

Suddenly, an idea occurs to you. "Maybe he's shrimpy!" you exclaim, the edge of your pen pointing to one of the male victim crime photos in your file.

Hotch's eyebrows raise, and the rest of the team looks at you in pretty much the same way.

You clear your throat, fighting down embarrassment. 

"What do you mean, shrimpy?" JJ asks, and you notice her chair is closer to Emily's than it was before. Oh you are _so_ right about them.

"I mean, what can't you do when your pelvis is broken?" you say, met by a round of silence. You clear your throat again.

"Well, anyways, if our unsub _does_ identify as male, then maybe he's destroying the men's pelvises so that they can't have... _coitus."_ You feel like hiding under the table. Everyone here is so much older than you.

"But what about the female victim?" Emily asks. 

"Maybe he's effeminate? What if he sees the pelvis smashing as destroying their manhood? And he sees the, uh, the way he dressed the female as _giving_ her manhood?" Morgan says, leaning forward in his chair. 

"Well, if he feels that he identifies with the female, he sure is being generous. What is that, a size 4?" Emily asks, pointing up to the female victim. _Everyone_ raises their eyebrows at that. "What?" Emily says with a shrug and a smirk. "I learn things." 

"And what about the male victims? Does anyone happen to know how long they were?" you ask, and you hear Garcia make a lewd chocolate thunder joke from the phone before Hotch hits the 'end call' button. 

"Well," Hotch says, and oh my god, he's blushing. You never thought this day would come. "it does fit the profile better. Still, how are we going to catch him?" 

You scoff, threading your glove-covered hands together. "And how's JJ going to do the press conference later? All men with not-so-shrimpy dicks and all women without them please be vigilant? We're going on even less than before." Morgan starts laughing, low and struggling to be contained at how you so casually said 'dick.' JJ looks aghast, how _is_ she going to do the press conference? That thought alone is enough to make you realize you need to get out of here before you start doubling over like Morgan. 

"Right, well, Y/N, you go pick up Reid and fill him in on the way to the M.E.'s. See if you can," Hotch hesitates. " _get their sizes."_

You nod professionally, high-tailing it out of there and speed-dialing Reid. This is going to be an interesting briefing when you pick him up.

"This is Spencer Reid." you hear his voice say over the phone.  
"Yeah, Pipecleaner, I'm coming to pick you up. We're going to go look at some dead bodies together. Won't that be fun?"  
Spencer just rattles off the address and hangs up. You smirk, hopping in the car and driving towards the mechanic's. 

Spencer gets in, and you chastise him for not immediately putting his seat belt on. He then blasts cold air and starts playing country music, like he knows you hate. "You know you're freezing both of our asses off, right?" you ask, turning the heat back on. "Worth it." is his only response, and you quickly switch the music. 

"Oh, and I'm meant to fill you in. The profile's trash. Hotch sent us to go record the lengths of the first two victims."  
Spencer blushes, and you're filled with an evil satisfaction. "Length?" he asks to clarify.  
"You heard me right the first time, pretty boy."  
more blushing from Spencer.  
"Well, what does that have to do with the new profile?" He asks, fidgeting in his seat.  
"The unsub's an effeminate man who's destroying men's abilities to fuck but giving it to women. Our last victim was a woman left with a strap on."  
Spencer chokes.  
You're enjoying this way too much. 

You reach the M.E.'s, and are directed into the office.  
"Would you care to do the honors?" You ask Spencer, mimicking measuring something while gesturing at the men.  
If the M.E. is confused, he doesn't show it, instead giving Spencer a measuring tape and not asking questions.  
As Spencer walks by you, you whisper, "try to keep it in your pants, hm?"  
He studiously ignores you, measuring with a professional precision. You wish you could take a picture and frame it. 

Instead, you turn to the M.E. "Do you have the thing that was left on the woman?" you ask, trying to be less abrasive.  
He nods and hands it to you, and you look for where the size is written. You find it, it's a size four.

Emily was right.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
In the end, the case is solved, and an abductee is rescued, albeit with a broken pelvis. 

On the plane back, you can feel a sort of truce wash over everyone. One that states, "we are never going to talk about this case again." 

Still, once you get back home, you seek out Emily and tell her she was right about the size, making sure you speak loud enough for JJ to hear when she walks by. 

Might as well, right?  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You're heading to the staircase when Spencer pulls into the parking lot. You hesitate, then stop, deciding you wanted to talk to him about something. "Dickhead! Over here!" you call, beckoning to him with your middle finger. You can see him sigh from across the parking lot, but he comes anyways.

"You're so crass." he complains, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Look," you say, crossing your arms in front of you and ignoring him. "we may as well carpool to work from now on. Pretend that your Big Tank breaking down on the case is a sign to agree with me and help save us some gas money. Also, pollution." you say, turning around to get out of the cold. Spencer makes a noise behind you, and you take that as agreement.  
"Fine." he says, taking off one of his jackets. "But you better not keep making me late."  
You gape back at him, pointing an accusing finger.  
"Every time I've been late has been because of you!" you exclaim, and Spencer pushes past you, smiling.  
"Out in the hallway at 7:30 sharp!" he calls, stepping out of the stairwell. 

hmph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is it that it's always around midnight when I write?? 
> 
> Nat's Notes: this is usually the time when I start losing interest in writing a story but I WILL PUSH THROUGH bc I have 70 kudos rn and I'm literally so happy I love u all <3


	9. Driver's License

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all we are finally reaching the *PLOT* part of the story that I had originally written this story for...
> 
> heh.
> 
> ALSO you guys I switched from calling him Reid to Spencer.. did anyone notice? yes, it was intentional.

It's been a few weeks, and you and Spencer have fallen into a comfortable rhythm. And by comfortable rhythm, I mean that every day, you guys each come up with a new way to annoy the other. Just yesterday, Spencer printed out the picture of you asleep on his shoulder, except it was zoomed in on your face and the mess that was your hair. He attached it to the passenger sun visor, making sure you got a nice, long look beforehand. In return, you had turned your car on 5 minutes early, making sure his seat was nice and scorching hot for when he got in. 

You look down at your phone. 7:35. Spencer is never late more than a minute or two, so you head over to his apartment and knock. There's a pause, then you hear footsteps towards the door. Instead of opening it, however, he calls through the door. "I'll uh, drive myself today, okay? See you." 

You gape, starting to laugh. "Is that you in there, Mr.-Y/N-stop-making-me-late? Oh how the hypocrisy is real. Let me in." you call back, knocking on the door again.

Another moment's hesitation, then the door is opened to reveal a very disheveled Spencer, hair uncombed and clothes wrinkled. You pull out your phone and snap a picture of him in all his glory, Spencer acting game and holding up a peace sign. You laugh and send it to him, saving it to favorites.

You walk into his apartment with a false confidence, looking around at the incredibly impressive amount of books he has lying around. Spencer is still standing at the door, staring at you. You wonder if it was bothering him, having you in his home. However, a moment passes, and he starts getting ready again, running about and probably disturbing the neighbors. You meander about, not actually looking through things but just taking it all in. Your eyes sweep the kitchen counter, then double back. Wait a minute...

You look back, noticing a small canister of pens. You walk over, and sure enough, they're _your pens._ That he _stole._ Spencer comes running out of the bathroom, hair still disheveled and looking like he couldn't give less of a fuck about it. You raise your eyebrows, pointing at the pens, but Spencer just grabs your arm and runs out. You both run to the parking lot, jumping into your car as you turn the engine on and head to work, only going slightly faster than what would really be considered legal. 

"I thought you had thrown all of my pens away." you accuse, glancing over at Spencer, who was bent over in an attempt to tie his shoes.  
He straightened, clearing his throat. "Why waste good pens? After I cleaned and sterilized them, of course."  
You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, and remind yourself about your therapist appointment with Rick after work. You'd been seeing him for a while, more so since you had been through a few more traumatizing experiences, but you were starting to learn how to deal with them on your own. 

The rest of the ride was in silence except for the radio, put on to a station that you two had argued over for a solid week before coming to a compromise. You pull into the parking lot, and you suck in a breath as you see Emily walking towards your car. She notices Spencer in the passenger seat and she gives you a look, one that conveys that she will be expecting a full run-down later.

"Hey you guys, we've got another case. We're briefing at the airplane, so you... _two_ head over. Meet you guys in a few." Emily says, waving when done and heading to her car.

You drive to the airport, wondering why you weren't getting briefed in the usual room at headquarters. You head onto the plane, Spencer behind you, and you both sit in your usual seats, even though there's another one open. You had gotten used to sitting next to Spencer, and you guess he has too. 

You yawn, tired. You feel Spencer tense next to you, and you wonder what that's about.

Emily arrives, and the briefing starts. The unsub has been taking police officers and members of authority and torturing them before snapping their necks and dumping them in seemingly random places. You can tell that everyone is dreading this case. When one of their own has been hurt, sometimes the police tend to be a bit uncooperative when you say something that they don't agree with. With this case, two of their own have not only been hurt in one of the worst ways imaginable, but they've also been killed and dumped like trash. 

You yawn again, leaning your head back against the seat and struggling to keep your eyes open. You haven't slept for a full 24 hours, but you know that even if you happen to fall asleep now, your insomnia will just wake you up in a few minutes (I'm sorry for not portraying insomnia correctly... it's a bit crazy up in my imagination). Spencer inches closer, and you become hyper aware as he leans in, and whispers in your ear, "You can sleep on my shoulder, if you want. I read up a bit on the whole touching-someone-making-you-sleep-better thing, and it can actually be really effective for some people." He hesitates, and you feel his breath on your shoulder. "I can try to stop them from taking pictures, if that matters to you." he whispers with a smirk, pulling back and waiting for you to answer.

You open your mouth but don't know what to say. I mean, yeah, the two times you had slept with Spencer had been the best two nights of sleep you can remember, but the plane ride is only about 3 hours long, and you don't know how long it would take you to fall asleep. Still... you wanted to try. You wanted to be able to sleep, to get rid of the eye bags and the 2 am voicemails to Rick, sobbing about how life was unfair and how everything would be better if you could just dream. You never ended up sending the voicemails, of course, and you never could bring yourself to broach the subject of insomnia to Rick. He had asked about your constant yawning a few times, but you had just assured him that it was work keeping you up late. You don't think he believes you. 

You scoot a little closer to Spencer, avoiding eye contact. The space between you two is still too big to reasonably be able to sleep on his shoulder, but you can't bring yourself to get any closer. Spencer notices, and moves until his hip hits yours, dipping his shoulder a bit to make it easier for you. You vaguely notice Emily watching you, but most of your attention is on Spencer and how much you want to lay your head on his shoulder.

So... you do. 

And it's nice. You're instantly warmed, and your head rises and falls peacefully with each breath he takes. You can feel his curls brushing against your hair, the fabric of his pants pressed against yours. Within minutes, you're asleep, and don't wake up until Spencer gently shakes you awake once you've landed.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You work the case, dealing and laughing along with the teasing from Morgan and Emily, as well as assuring Garcia _multiple_ times that _no, you and Spencer Reid are not dating._

Emily is the first one to know about you and Spencer's apartment situation, and you swear her to silence, making sure she understands that it includes JJ too. She pouts at that, but gives her 'scouts honor' and leaves the matter alone, leaving nothing behind but a smirk. 

You don't get much time with Spencer, especially since most of your time is spent babying the irrational police officers who keep demanding that the profile is obviously wrong and that the perpetrator is some old pedophile that lives on the edge of town. You try to remain professional and not use the I'm-the-FBI card, but it's hard.

Suddenly, the case is turned upside down, and you can't remember exactly why you thought the police had been acting irrational...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nat's Notes: I am literally so in love with this man it HURTS. like please?? exist?? in real life??? 
> 
> and don't get me STARTED on MGG omfg...
> 
> also, I am humbly requesting that u hit the kudos button if u like... want to? haha-
> 
> disclaimer, it's currently 1:34 AM and I literally cannot bring myself to edit this, so I will be editing later. much love!


	10. what the fuck are you doing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jemily stans... I'm calling you
> 
> ATTENTION
> 
> TW// KNIFE+BLOOD
> 
> (if either of those things trigger you, please leave a comment and I'll include a brief but hopefully trigger-free summary at the end. much love)

No one can reach her cell. JJ hasn't sat down in hours, and neither have you or Spencer. It's been 4 hours since the team had realized Emily had been kidnapped, and now Hotch and Rossi are the only ones keeping the team and the police force in check. You know you should be calm and focused on rescuing her, but instead you've been drinking copious amounts of bad coffee (you don't even like coffee) and punching the wall of the police storage room. 

JJ's a mess, practically walking lines into the floor with her pacing and running her hands through her hair every other second. When Emily hadn't come back to the police station after 10 minutes, JJ had run to shut herself in the bathroom. She had come out a while later, eyes red and mouth set in a firm and unwavering line. The entire team had thrown themselves into the case, but no one could come up with anything. Spencer became secluded, poring over reports and crime scene photos without stopping to catch his breath. 

It's four hours later, and everyone is nearing the end of their tethers. Garcia had flown in, sobbing, immediately running into JJ's arms as the two girls hugged each other and simultaneously leaned on and supported the other. 

You worry about Spencer. Over the past months and car rides, you two had developed a sort of... _tentative friendship._ Actually, you weren't really sure what to call it. He had let you sleep on him in the plane, and now you found yourself looking over at him every few minutes, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. You know he's running himself thin and it scares you.

Spencer picks up the case file for the 24th time (you'd been counting), and you decide you're done. You walk over to him and take the file out of his hands. He lunges for it, but you stop him, hand on his chest just like that snowball fight so many nights ago. This time he immediately steps back, and you feel a flash of hurt before pushing it aside and refocusing on the matter at hand.

"Spence, stop." He tenses, and you realize you've never called him Spence before. Again, you push past it, picking up the rest of the evidence he has around him and placing it on the table. "Come on. There's chairs lined up in the interrogation room that you can sleep on if you won't go to the hotel. Either that, or you take a long break and clear your mind. None of us are helping Emily by running ourselves into the ground." you say, gesturing for him to follow you instead of grabbing his arm. You don't want him to pull away again. 

He stares at the ground so that you can't see his face, and you wonder if you've made a mistake.

If you're finally going to know what Spencer Reid is like when he's mad. 

Instead, his hands start to shake, and you hear him begin breathing erratically. A police officer stops, but you wave them away, this time not hesitating before grabbing Spencer's arm and leading him out of the station.

Screw the interrogation room, you're driving him to the hotel. 

The moment you get outside, however, Spencer pulls his arm out of your grasp and shakes his head. "No, no I'm not leaving. No one else is leaving, I'm not leaving." he says shakily, taking a step back towards the station. 

You snap. "Spencer Reid, stop it." you say angrily, running around to get in front of him. "Can't you see that you're not doing anything? If the unsub sticks to his schedule, Emily still has 20 hours. A lot can happen in 20 hours, including you getting some sleep. You know it's what she would tell you to do-" Spencer glares at you and cuts you off. "Don't you fucking DARE tell me what Emily would do. I've known her for years, and you've barely even met her. She listened to me when I needed her to, and she was always there whether I needed her or not. You can't just tell me what to do and expect me go along with it. Goddamnit we're not even friends!" Spencer yells, stepping closer and towering over you. "We ridicule each other every chance we get, and you know what, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you and your stupid strawberry smell. I'm sick of bad guys hurting the people I love and I'm sick of not knowing how to save them. Don't talk to me, and don't try to get me to leave again." Spencer pushes past you, knocking you back with his shoulder. You see Garcia watching you two, and you turn away, not wanting her to see you cry. 

You get in a car, and start driving. Your hands shake and your eyes blur, and you know you need to pull over. You find an empty parking lot and pull in, turning off the car and hitting the steering wheel with your hands as you start to sob, screaming and covering your eyes. Emily is missing. Spencer hates you. You don't know how to solve the case. You're useless to the team, you know they don't need you. Worthless. You repeat it to yourself, shaking, over and over, until the lights of another car pulling in blinds you. You hold your hand up to shield your eyes, the other hand wiping away your tears as you squint at the person coming towards you. For a moment, you wonder if it's Spencer. 

You see the crowbar in the stranger's hand too late, and you search frantically for your gun, only to remember that you had left it at the station. You scramble for your phone and open contacts, your hand shaking as you call the last person you spoke to. You see your phone screen and the words 'dialing Spencer Reid' before your car door opens and all you see is black.

 _"I thought I told you not to talk to me.  
Hello?  
y/n?  
Y/N!" _  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You wake up with your head pounding and your hands and feet bound. The left side of your head hurts like a bitch, and you can't quite bring yourself to fully open your eyes. The lights hurt.  
"y/n? y/n wake up!" you hear someone whisper-yell. Someone familiar. Emily. You sit up quickly, trying to open your eyes and ignore the pain as you search for her. Emily. Where is she?

"I'm to your left," you hear her say, and you turn, a sob escaping you as you see her bound in a similar fashion. She didn't look too hurt, and she was pulling as hard as she could against her restraints to get closer to you. "Emily-" you gasp, your throat sore and painful. You feel tears stream down your face, and you see matching ones on Emily's. "Where's everyone else? Where's JJ?" Emily asks, still keeping her voice down. "They're fine, they're at the station-" you stop, remembering the rest of the team. If you hadn't had a mini tantrum and driven off, you wouldn't be shackled here with Emily. Then again, maybe you could use the very little new information the team had figured out to help Emily somehow. You look around, trying to keep your panic in check, looking for a door or a hidden camera or _something._

"There's nothing." Emily says, leaning back against the wall. You realize that not only are you both bound, but your hands are handcuffed and chained to opposite walls. You ignore Emily, looking around for something to pick the lock. After a few minutes, you come to terms with just how futile your attempts are. You wonder if Spencer picked up your phone call, or if he just let it ring out. Either way, by now you're sure the team has realized you've been kidnapped. You wonder how they're all reacting, then make yourself stop. Imagining Spencer with an indifferent look on his face hurts way too much, and you really can't deal with it right now.

"Are... are you okay?" you ask tentatively, breathing shallowly. 

"I'm as good as I can be in this kind of situation. My head hurts like a bitch from the crowbar, though." Emily responds, wincing.

"Do you know who it is or where we are?" You ask Emily, leaning against the wall and fighting to keep your eyes open. You don't want to be unconscious here again. 

"It's Victor, the guy we interviewed but wrote off? He really liked rubbing that in my face." Emily sighs, leaning her head back. "As for where we are, I can only guess that it's his basement or something. Either way, I think we're below ground. He always walks down the stairs to get here." You frown, sitting up. 

"How often does he come down here? Has he been feeding you? What does he want?" you ask.

Emily laughs, a dry, broken laugh. "He comes down about once every two hours and threatens to rape me. I haven't eaten or drank a thing since I've gotten here." she swallows dryly, tucking her legs under her. "And you and I both know that all that sadist wants is to drive everyone crazy and kill us at the end of the day." 

You hesitate. "They were only threats... right?" you ask. If that man raped Emily, you were going to bash him over the head and give him a nice, hard, swift kick to the balls before hauling him to jail and making sure he stays there for life. Thankfully, Emily nods. "He's really lewd, though, so brace yourself. Besides, he said I'm not his 'type.' Just pray to god you aren't either." 

You hear footsteps and you glance over at Emily, your breath quickening as you start to panic. Please, please don't let me be his type. Victor comes into view, and you immediately tense as he strolls over to you with a grin. "Look who's finally awake." he says, crouching down and letting his putrid smell wash over you. You gag, turning away from him. "Don't like how I smell, hm? How about you come help me shower." he grabs your chin, forcing your face towards him. He narrows his eyes at you, licking his lips. "No... you're not my type either. Too flat in the chest, uh?" he says, laughing and standing up. You let out a breath of relief. 

"Don't get too comfortable. We're leaving in 10." He says, walking back upstairs as you start to shake. You fight to regain control, pulling at your handcuffs until you feel your skin split and you cry out in pain. Emily's immediately at attention. "Y/N, stop. The chain won't budge, trust me." she says urgently, hair falling in front of her face. You nod, evening out your breaths, as you feel a stream of blood trickle down your wrist. 

Victor comes back downstairs with a crowbar, and your eyes widen. He stalks towards you, raising the crowbar, ignoring Emily as she screams at him to stop. For the second time, all you see is black. 

You move your head, and pain immediately splits across your eyes and temples. You groan, trying to sit up groggily. You look around for Emily, and suddenly you hear it. Sirens?

Your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. You're in the back of a van, and it's stopped. You spot Emily across from you, and you inch over to her, hands and feet still bound but not connected to the wall. "Emily." you shake her. "Emily, wake up. It's y/n. Emily, Emily please. Come on, wake up." you start babbling frantically, barely registering that the sirens are getting louder. You hear shouts, then the van door is yanked open, and Victor grabs you, dragging you out and holding a knife to your neck. You see the rest of the team surrounding you, Spencer and JJ at the front, aiming their guns at Victor's head. 

"EMILY'S IN THE VAN SHE'S UNCONSCIOUS-" Victor digs the knife in, and you feel blood, but you got your message across. Morgan circles around Victor, swinging into the van and jumping out carrying Emily. "You can have her." Victor snarls, tightening the hand he has holding you to him. "I'm pretty sure she's dead anyways." he says with a smile, and you see JJ break away, running to Emily and screaming for a medic. 

"Victor. Put the knife down, and we can talk about this." Hotch says, walking forward slowly.

"Take another step and I'll kill her." Victor threatens, pushing the knife in harder. All you can do is stare at Spencer. Spencer's hands are steady on his gun as he stares back at you, and you don't recognize the emotion on his face. All you can tell is that it's deep, and you can breathe again. You breathe calmly and deeply, in and out, never breaking eye contact with Spencer, even when you feel Victor push in the knife again. You wince, but keep looking at Spencer. You want to say you're sorry for everything. For every petty insult, for every mocking remark, for getting angry at him outside of the police station. Suddenly, you're forced to break eye contact as Victor shoves you to your knees and yanks your head back by your hair as you cry out in pain.

"Victor, we know about your sister. We know the police didn't investigate, and we know about the letters you sent to the FBI that were ignored. But you and I both know that y/n didn't have anything to do with that. In the months that I've known y/n, I know that she would've done everything she could to help you and your sister. She's a good person. Put the knife down, Victor." Hotch says, face and gun unwavering.

Suddenly, Spencer puts his gun on the ground and walks forward with his hands in the air. You gasp, but are quickly silenced by Victor pushing the knife back against your neck firmly. "Stop right there," Victor threatens, turning to face Spencer, "even without your gun I won't hesitate." he hisses, pulling on your hair again. You cry out, and your head is yanked back so that you can't see Spencer anymore. "I'll find her." you hear Spencer say, and you feel Victor's hold on the knife relax slightly. "I'll find where she's buried and I'll find out who did it, just let y/n go." Spencer continues, ignoring Hotch when he tells Spencer to get back behind him. 

"And how do I know you'll deliver? How do I know if you even can." Victor snarls, bringing the knife down to the neck of your shirt. "Besides, why would you do anything for me? Is this... _y/n_ that important?" he asks, and you can feel him smile on the back of your head. Spencer doesn't respond, and Victor tuts. "No? Well I guess you won't mind this then." Victor says, slicing open the front of your shirt in one swift movement. You hear a gunshot, and you feel something warm on your face as you fall onto your hands. 

Immediately, you feel someone next to you, cutting your binds and speaking quickly in low tones, but you can't understand any of it over the ringing in your ears. Someone puts a jacket on you to cover your ruined shirt, and you're picked up and put on a stretcher as you close your eyes and fall into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nat's Notes: On instagram I have a specific folder with CM posts saved in it, and I'm pretty sure it would take me a full day to scroll all the way to the bottom.
> 
> 80 kudos?? My love for this man and you guys have brought me here.... much love :3


	11. ouch tf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more sleeping bc y/n is never fully satiated
> 
> also I have to wake up early tmrw and I'm going to cry

Everything's really... bright. And painful. Can't forget the pain. 

"hrmgle." you mutter, tilting your head to the side to get away from the light shining down from above. 

You hear a phone ring, then someone say, "Spence, she's awake. Tell Hotch, will you?" 

Suddenly someone's above you, and you sigh. You really don't feel like expending the energy necessary to open your eyes, still, somehow, you manage, blinking up at Morgan as he blots out the overhead hospital lights. Hospital. You try to sit up quickly, and instantly regret it. You feel groggy, and hands gently push you back onto the bed. 

"Emily..?" you ask, the events of your kidnapping coming back to you all at once. Emily. She hadn't woken up... but she couldn't be dead, could she? No, because that wouldn't be fair. You groan and wince, feeling a tired tear run slowly down your cheek, followed by another. And my god, you are so tired. 

"She's still unconscious, but the doctors expect her to wake up soon. She's fine, y/n. Don't worry that pretty little head of yours. Boy wonder is going to come in and bring you some stuff, okay? Like food and water. Just sit tight." Morgan says, patting you a few times on the arm before you hear him walk away and open the door.

"Oh! Y/n, I was so worried!" you hear Garcia say, tears streaming down her face. "Oh," you groan, reaching up to grab her hand. "I'm fine. The bastard's dead?" you ask, letting your hand fall back to the bed in exhaustion. 

"Yeah... yeah he's dead. Oh, I thought you weren't going to be up for hours! I was supposed to be here when you woke up y/n-" Garcia starts talking quickly, but you quickly assure her it's fine and you're fine. Your eyes shoot open as you realize something. 

"Hey is Morgan still here?" you ask, but before Garcia can respond, Morgan walks up next to her. "Yeah I'm here. What, missing me already?" He says with a smirk, and Garcia swats him on the arm. 

"Is he by any chance, bringing clothes?" you ask, your eyes remaining open this time as you pull the sheets up to your chest. "You mean pretty boy? Yeah think so. Pretty sure the landlady let him in to your apartment. Hope you hid away your little shrine to him." Morgan replies with a wink, procuring another swatting by Garcia. 

"Come on, lets let her rest. You just get some sleep, okay? If you can't, just call me up and I'll tackle Reid into the bed. I know how much he helps you sleep..." Garcia says with a smile, and this time it's _you_ swatting Garcia, but she just moves out of the way and pulls Morgan with her, laughing.

You manage to get the hospital bed to bend into more of a sitting position, looking around for your phone. You wonder if Hotch told your family. You spot it over in a personal belongings bag by the wall, and slowly swing your legs out of bed. The moment your feet hit the ground and you stand up, however, you're overcome by a wave of dizziness. You sway, crying out in alarm, when you hear something drop and feel someone catch you and set you down gently on the bed. 

"y/n- what are you doing out of bed?" you hear Spencer ask, but you can't manage to open your eyes. The small exertion seems to have doubled the pain everywhere, and you can feel yourself squeezing your eyes shut tightly. A few moments later, thankfully, the pain subsides, and you slowly coax your eyes open to find Spencer kneeling on the ground, picking up the contents of a tray and setting them on the bedside table. "You're lucky they package all the food here, or you'd have jell-o all over the floor." Spencer says matter-of-factly, setting your bag of clothes over near your belongings bag, too far out of reach. You silently curse him, still squinting against the light. 

"Well hello to you too." you say sardonically, shocked at how croaky and rough your voice is. You clear your throat a few times, and try to drag yourself into a sitting position- with no luck. Thankfully and not thankfully, Spencer notices and gently grips your shoulder and waist to push you back up against your pillows. You nod thanks to him, slowly folding your legs until they crossed. You notice the flaw in your plan, however, when Spencer blushes and spins away faster than a swivel chair. You quickly pull the covers to your hips, clearing your throat again and calling out, "I'm decent. Don't get your panties all in a twist." 

Spencer checks once over his shoulder to make sure, then turns back around, standing awkwardly and clearing his throat. "I uh, brought some clothes. They were folded on top of your cabinets, so I didn't go in your closet or anything." he says quickly, gesturing vaguely towards the plastic grocery bag he had brought in earlier. You nod slowly, tapping your fingers on your knees. You remember your family, and ask for your phone, to which Spencer quickly obliges. Sure enough, you have a total of 12 missed calls, with a surprising total of 7 from your sister. That's uncharacteristic. You frown, calling her back.

"AUNT Y/N!" you hear a voice wail from the other side, and suddenly the numerous phone calls make sense. You smile to yourself, Spencer standing on awkwardly as you talk to Roseline. "Hey! It's my favorite flower. How are you?" you ask, relaxing back against the pillows. "I'm sad. Mommy said you couldn't answer calls because you got hurt! What happened?" her tinny voice rings out, and you blink back the moisture from your eyes. Children in their sweet and innocent phase can do that to you. "It's okay, you and your mommy don't need to worry! I'm all good now, just sitting down and eating, uh, what is this," you trail off, leaning forward to look at the tray Spence had brought. "Jell-o? Ooh, wrong move. Auntie doesn't like Jell-o." Spencer gapes at you and you raise an eyebrow, gesturing for him to eat it. He takes it, ripping the cover off like you've personally offended him. "Mommy says it's my bed time now. But I still want you to take a picture to prove you're really okay! I'm giving mommy the phone now. Goodnight!" she whines and calls, and you laugh. "Of course I will. Goodnight!" you say back, then it's your sister on the phone, and you two chat a while, you giving her a brief overview of what happened and assuring her you're completely fine and stable. 

You smile and end the call, looking over at Spencer, who's eating the blue jell-o out of the plastic cup. "I can't believe you don't like jell-o." he says, shaking his head. You scoff, sitting up straighter and remembering that you have to take a photo for Rose. You look over at him. "You know it's made of gelatin right? And that gelatin is made of-" you start to say, but he cuts you off, brandishing his spoon at you. "I know everything, and no, I don't need to be reminded. Are you going to take the photo or what?" he asks, and you notice that his tongue looks a bit blue. 

You laugh to yourself, gesturing for him to come over and holding out your phone to encompass the two of you. You angle it up so that Rose can't see the wires. No need to worry her. 

"Stick your tongue out." you say, giving him no explanation. Thankfully, Spencer complies, and you take the picture, capturing the perfect look of surprise on his face as he sees the blue on his tongue. "No- what that's such a bad photo don't send-" you send the photo, effectively cutting him off. He hits you on the forehead with his spoon and you gape at him, dramatically wiping your forehead like he had given you the plague or something. "Hello? I'm a fragile patient here. You can't just go about hitting me as you please." you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him. He shrugs, smiling, and you call both of your parents, assuring them you're fine and that you'll be out of the hospital soon. Spencer doesn't contradict you, so you figure it's true enough. 

You sigh and lean back against the pillows, just as Hotch enters. "Hey y/n. How are you feeling?" he asks, coming up next to your bed.  
"Hmph. At least someone in here had the decency to ask." you say, and Spencer throws his hands up, one hand holding the remains of the jell-o and the other holding his spoon. You laugh, and Hotch gives you a look, so you quickly straighten your face out, assuring him you're fine and asking about Emily again. "She's okay, JJ's waiting with her. I'll let you and Reid know if anything changes. I have to go finish the files and talk to Strauss, so just let me know if you need anything." He nods at you and Spencer, then walks out and shuts the door behind him. 

Spencer throws the empty jell-o container and spoon in the trash, walking over to your bed and crossing his arms. "I didn't ask how you were feeling because you kept calling your entire contact list." he accuses, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking down at you. You stick your tongue out at him, and ask for your clothes. Again, he obliges, and he helps you get out of bed and walks you to the ladies bathroom. "Just call me, uh, if you need something. I can get JJ..." you wave him off, walking slowly into the bathroom and carefully getting dressed. You look down at your underwear, and spew out a string of curses. Of course your period comes now. You sigh and fold up some toilet paper, washing up and leaving the bathroom to find Spencer standing awkwardly out in the hallway, a few feet away from the ladies bathroom. You raise an eye at him, and he quickly comes and offers his arm for support.

Once you're back in the room, an idea comes to you. "Hey Spence, is there a drugstore anywhere around here?" you ask, feeling strong enough to lean back on your hands.

"Yeah, there's actually one on the first floor. It's on the northeast side of the building and it's located next to the lounge-"  
"yeah, okay uh," you say, cutting him off before he lists the entire structure of the first floor. "Do you think you could get something for me?" you ask sweetly, smiling up at him. His eyes narrow suspiciously and he hesitates, but slowly he says, "sure..?" 

You beckon him forward, leaning to whisper in his ear. "Can you get some tampons for me? Large would be best." you ask softly. He doesn't act like you thought he would, all flustered and uncomfortable. Instead he pulls away and nods, grabbing his phone and typing something in. He blushes. "Is, uh, this it?" he asks, tilting the phone to show a picture of a tampons box. Your eyebrows raise and you laugh, letting out a surprised, "yes." 

He's back in a few minutes, carrying the box under his arm, not even covertly wrapped in a plastic bag to disguise what it is. Is this what decent men are like?

You thank him and then thank him again after he leads you to the bathroom. When you're back comfortably in your room, you opt to sit in one of the guest chairs instead of the bed, so you and Spencer switch places. His feet dangle, and his pant legs are pulled up a bit to show pink and blue mismatched striped socks. You sigh and lean your head back against the chair, a wave of fatigue overcoming you again.

"You know, you should really sleep." Spencer says, getting up and hovering over you. "At least rest in the bed?" he offers, gently tugging at your arm. You sigh but acquiesce, laying down in the bed and knowing very damn well you weren't going to get a wink of sleep in it. Even if Garcia did come tackle Spencer onto the bed, it was so narrow that one of you would practically have to be half on top of the other. And that was _not_ happening.

Thankfully, a nurse comes in and you're able to sign out after you show her you can walk, and she makes Spencer promise not to leave you alone for a long period of time. He nods and takes his duty seriously, carrying all of your stuff and not getting outside of a foot's radius around you. You tut at him, comparing him to a mother hen, and he asks you if you're needing a cane already in your old age. You're a year younger than him. 

You both get in a car, Spencer driving this time. He drives you to the hotel, no one is flying back until Emily can fly with us. He leads you up to your room, then hesitates by the door.

"Spence, relax. I'm not going to fall out of bed and not be able to get up or something." you assure him, amused.  
He hesitates, opening his mouth and closing it before opening it again and saying, "But the nurse said to stay with you for at least 24 hours. It's only been 38 minutes and 49 seconds."  
You frown, he wasn't budging. "Uh... come in, I guess?" you offer, swinging the door open wide and walking slowly to your bed, gesturing for Spencer to throw your stuff anywhere. 

He places your stuff painstakingly gently on the floor near the wall, then stands awkwardly around the entrance to your room. You sigh, hobbling back over to him and dragging him into the room, pushing him to sit down on your bed before leaving to complete your nightly routine. You offer him a hotel toothbrush, but he reassures you that he's already done for the night. You come back and crawl past him, flopping down on the bed in your night shirt and shorts. 

Your night shorts are very short. Spencer notices. He stands up abruptly and tips up his chin a bit, clearing his throat (how many times are the both of us going to clear our throats?) and looking around the room that you're sure is identical to his own. 

"Look, you can take the couch or you can sleep with me." you blush. " _Next_ to me," you correct, gesturing at the space next to you. "It's a queen-sized bed, and you're a peasant at most. You'll fit." you say, yanking the edges of the sheets out from underneath the mattress where they had been tucked.

He stands and fidgets, and you see that he's still wearing a belt and tie. 

"Or, you could just leave me here alone. I'm sure the nurse will pin it all on you when I mysteriously pass away in the night.." you taunt him, smirking.  
He shakes his head at you, sighing and putting his hands in his pockets. You swing your legs out of bed, grabbing your hotel room card and heading towards the door.  
"Where are you going, y/n?" he asks, following you like the dutiful little guard dog he is.  
"Well if you aren't going to leave, we're going to have to go get your pajamas." you stop, turning and frowning at him. "Or do boys not do the whole pajama thing? All of my exes slept in their boxers."  
Spencer's eyes widen, and he blurts out, "No, no, I uh, have sleep clothes. You're right, lets go." he says quickly, walking past you and opening your door. You quirk your eyebrows and follow him, sitting on the bed in his room while he gets changed. He steps out from the bathroom in that MIT hoodie you had seen him in so long ago, as well as a pair of sweatpants. He refuses to meet your eyes, tugging the cuffs of his sleeves down over his hands. 

"One of these days that hoodie is going to go missing, you know." you call over your shoulder, leading the way back to your room. "And I swear I won't be the culprit!" you say innocently, opening your door and collapsing back into bed. The left side of your head still hurts, but it's more of a dull throb by now. Spencer slowly sits down on the bed, playing with the edge of the mattress. You sigh, this was going to take forever. Instead, you sit up, pushing him down by the shoulder and smiling down at the surprised look on his face. 

"Legs on the bed. Now." you command, pulling back the sheets. He obeys, and you cover him with the blankets, telling him to scoot his skinny little ass closer to the middle, he looks like he's about to fall off the bed. He obeys again, albeit reluctantly, and you're satisfied, running off to turn out the lights before getting back under the covers. 

You can feel warmth radiating from him. You move farther away from the edge, freezing when your leg brushes his. You don't move, and you can feel him keep deathly still next to you, breathing a bit erratically. You settle down, taking in the strangely comforting smell of him, tucking your hand under your pillow and breathing deeply, soon falling into a warm and satisfying sleep.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You wake up to the sound of someone knocking, and quickly register that there's someone next to you. Your eyes shoot open, only to meet the sight of the letters MIT rising and falling in front of you. Spencer eyes shoot open, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares at you, and you stare back. 

"Y/N? You up? It's Morgan. I couldn't reach your cell last night, but Emily woke up. The plane's leaving at noon. You okay?" you hear Morgan call, knocking on the door.  
"Uh... yeah! I'm up. And uh, I'm glad. About Emily. See you at noon?" you call back, wincing at your abnormal tone of voice but still not breaking eye contact with Spencer.  
"Uh.. yeah, alright. You sure you're okay?" Morgan asks, and you call back your affirmations, you and Spencer still staring at each other, almost in a state of shock.

You hear Morgan leave, but neither of you move. You two had drifted closer in the night, his arm falling to circle your head and your hand pushing up against his stomach. 

You both snap out of it at the same time, you rolling out of bed and Spencer yanking the covers off, nearly tripping as he jumps out of bed. Your bed.

You're both breathing like you had just run a mile, not looking at each other, him running his hair through with his hands. You try walking past him, stumbling when you rush and forget how much your body still hurts. His arms immediately shoot out to brace you, and you both look at each other again, his hands braced on your forearms and your hands dangling by your side. He lets go quickly, clearing his throat (again, I know) and stepping back. 

You nod a quiet thanks, walking (slower this time) to the bathroom to get ready. 

When you walk out, Spencer is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 90 kudos... I can't w/ u guys I'm literally in love MWAH
> 
> also it's 11 pm again... some1 remind me to edit later.


	12. we all know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We interrupt your regularly scheduled musical selection with an important announcement: never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate, because we have a history of going nuclear. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the dulcet sounds of me screaming in your ear." 
> 
> YOU GUYS IT TURNS OUT THAT WAS A DIALOGUE MISTAKE AND HE DIDN'T ACTUALLY GO TO MIT... IT'S LITERALLY CANON IN MY HEAD SO WE'RE STICKING WITH THE MIT HOODIE
> 
> much love!

"Emily!" you cry, running up to her and crashing her into a hug. You both drop your bags on the ground, clinging to each other and asking whether the other was okay. As the rest of the team passed you guys, Hotch had a small smile on his face, Rossi had a bigger smile, Morgan nodded and smiled, Garcia was grinning and looking like she was doing her best not to join, and Spencer just glanced once at the both of you quickly before boarding. JJ had stayed behind, picking up Emily's bags and smiling at the both of you.

You both break from the hug, and you frown at the bruise on the side of her head. After a few more assurances that she was okay and the doctor cleared her for flying, you sigh with a smile, relinquishing her over to JJ. You look around for your bags, but they're gone, and you figure Garcia probably took them up for you. 

When you enter the plane, Spencer is still standing, waiting for Garcia in front of him to get situated before sitting down in his usual seat next to yours, carrying your bags. You're grateful, but don't tell him that as you slip over his lap and take the window seat. "Stealing my bags now, hm? Also, I'm pretty sure you left me down there all alone before the 24 hours were up... naughty little Spencer." you say, kicking off your shoes and slipping your socked feet under you. 

Spencer looks vaguely shocked when you call him naughty, and you smirk to yourself. He's so wonderfully innocent. Still, you take your bag from him gratefully, opening it and pulling out your phone to text your parents the update they had asked for last night. 

"Hey, liar!" Spence exclaims snatching your phone and deleting your text before you can send it. You narrow your eyes at him, turning your body to face him as you reach for your phone. Spencer just holds it out into the walkway, his long arms extending way too far for you to reach. You sigh, flopping back against the wall. "So what? It's barely a lie. What they don't know, can't hurt them." you say, pouting and gesturing for him to give your phone back.

Spence just smiles and shakes his head, typing something new on your phone. "Now who's being naughty..." Spencer trails off, focused on typing. You sigh, and he gives the phone back to you, _after_ having told your parents about the _minor_ scar you would have and the little bottle of salve that the hospital had given you. 

You stick your tongue out at him, turning the ringer of your phone off before your parents started worrying and blowing it up. Spencer just shrugs and reaches into his bag, procuring a small chess board with magnetic pieces. "Do you know how to play?" he asks, setting the chess pieces up.

"Woah there y/n, what are you, some secret chess prodigy? Pretty boy here never lets any of us play him." Morgan says, passing on his way to the coffee machine. Spencer clears his throat, glancing up at Morgan before shrugging. "She's handicapped, I'm taking pity on her." Spencer says, smiling at you and turning the chessboard so that you play white.

You narrow your eyes at him, but are secretly nervous. Sure, you know the basics of chess, but that's _literally it._

You try to go for a relaxed position, laying your head back next to the window and bringing your feet up onto the seat, the tops of your socks bumping against the bottom of Spencer's thigh. You move a pawn, trying not to let show just how bloody _awful_ you are at this game. You're pretty sure Spencer already knows, however, because he keeps telling you to undo your moves and make better ones, explaining what you did wrong and how to fix it. 

It takes a few rounds, but you start to become gradually more interested. You learn a bit about swapping pieces, and how trapping the king between two rows is your best chance (I literally do not know chess strategy, please don't come after me, chess players <3). 

Despite your obvious incompetence, it looks like Spencer's having fun, laughing when you curse and smiling with his eyebrows raised when you do something correctly. You know he could beat you on your ass, and you're humbled, but you still enjoy feeling like a chess intellectual. 

The plane ride's over too soon, and Spencer puts away his mini board, having beaten you 43 times. 

At some point, your feet had slid forward, taking refuge tucked under the edge of Spencer's leg. You extract them carefully, slipping your shoes back on and gathering your stuff. You smack Spencer on the top of his head when he jokes about your lacking chess skills, and he none-too-gently kicks at the back of your knees in return. 

You see Garcia, JJ, and Emily exchange grins and glances, but you ignore them. Just because he hadn't been completely and utterly annoying these past two days did _not_ mean you guys were friends. 

The whole team knew about you and Spencer's apartment and carpooling situation, even more so when Garcia had unapologetically searched up your addresses to see how far apart the two of your apartments were. She was ecstatic when she learned the two of you were only the width of a hallway and a door away. 

Since the two of you carpooled, Spencer would come and sit on your desk after he had finished his own files and would help you with yours. You pointed out how it was only fair, after all, he had been gifted with his speed-reading skills and people are supposed to share their gifts with the world, right? In this case _you_ were the world, and Spencer's 'gift' was the ability to go through a stack of files in under 10 minutes.

You quickly finished your files with his help, earning a jealous glare from Emily that you quickly responded to by blowing her a kiss. She mock-caught the kiss, grinding it to dust in her fingers and tossing it over her shoulders. You just smiled, sticking up a peace sign over your shoulder as you walked with Spencer to your car. 

Spencer insisted on driving, claiming that your 'dramatically disfiguring head injury' might impair your driving and get you both killed. You let him, checking your watch as he pulled out of the BAU parking. 

"Congrats, lover boy, you still have 5 hours to kill with me." you said to him with a grin, starting a timer on your phone and waving it tauntingly in his face. Spencer gave a hesitant smile, his eyes not leaving the road. You flopped back against the seat, slipping your feet under you as you fiddled with the music. 

Suddenly, Spencer got into an unfamiliar left turn lane, turning into a Starbucks and parking. You looked over at him with a question written plainly on your face, and he just shrugged. "If I have to spend the next five hours listening to you yak on, I'm going to need some coffee." With that, he got out of the car, gesturing for you to follow him when you just sat there. 

You quickly got out, following him into the establishment and pulling a sweater on. Spencer ordered, then stepped aside and looked to you, waiting for you to order. You're surprised, you figure you two would have gotten separate orders and receipts. "Uh, do you guys still have hot chocolate?" you asked, and the cashier confirmed. You cast a furtive side-eye at Spencer, slipping your hand into your purse to get a $20 out. 

Spencer just gave you a look, shoulder-bumping you out of the way and paying for you guys' drinks. You take the warm drink from the employee gladly, following Spencer to the sugar packet station and watching as he poured an ungodly amount in his coffee.

"My god, Spencer, that's going to give you a heart attack!" you exclaim, watching as he ripps open his fifth sugar packet. He just smiles down at his drink, continuing to pour in sugar. He finishes, throwing away the packets and grabbing a stirring straw. 

"Actually, the average cup of hot chocolate has 24 grams of sugar in it. Also, it's nearly spring, so are you one of those all-seasons hot chocolate drinkers?" he asks, holding open the door. 

You shrug, following him out and squinting against the setting sun. "Once it gets warmer, I'll switch to chocolate milk. I'm just not much of a coffee drinker." you say, getting into the car. Spencer's shocked. "What do you do when it's early in the morning and you're tired, then?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

You shrug. "Gatorade, red bull, monster... whatever. I've kind of learned to operate on 1% batter because of my insomnia anyways." you say, sipping at the hot chocolate.

Spence pulls into your apartment complex, and the two of you get out. You open your apartment door, wondering if he'll follow you in. He does, standing by the door awkwardly before shutting it behind him. You smile, pulling up your timer. "That wasn't much of a detour Spence, really one of your weaker ideas. Still have 4 hours and 45 minutes. Whatever shall we do?" you ask, walking to your bedroom to change into sweatpants and a tank top. You frown as you see yourself in the mirror. You had been feeling distinctly Emily-like when you had bought this shirt, and wondered if it was a bit too showy. You shrug, figuring it was just Spencer and you didn't really give a crap. *aha*

Spencer blinks a few times when you walk out, taking a long sip from his coffee.

"So, any ideas of what to do?" you ask, sitting on your couch and offering the space next to you for him. He obliges, sitting down a comfortable distance away from you and shrugging, gesturing towards the TV. "We could just watch television. Did you know they're having a Twilight marathon next week? I've actually never seen it." he says, a slight frown on his face.

You gape at him, "You've never seen Twilight? Where have you been living, under a rock?" you ask, shaking your head in dismay.

He chuckles, and you notice that he had taken his shoes off by the door next to yours. "You know exactly where I live." he says, taking another sip of his coffee-turned sugar bowl. You acknowledge his point. 

"Anyways, you should definitely watch it. It's a culture thing, you know? Like, you're not really American if you haven't watched some kid dangle a worm on a stick in front of a girl's face." 

Spencer shrugs. "Plenty of people have dangled worms in my face." he says matter-of-factly, and you frown. 

"Well.. still. You should come over and watch it. We can stock up on junk from the gas station." you offer, turning on the TV and flipping through stations. Spencer nods, a slight smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll trade u another chapter for a kudos...


	13. Look Bella, a Worm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M ACTUALLY PISSED.... I WROTE THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER THEN ACCIDENTALLY X-ED OUT OF MY BROWSER... LITERALLY FCUK ME

SPENCER  
Y/N: What time r u coming? Just got back from the store, got all the best junk.  
SR: 8:30? And we'll see who has the best junk.  
Y/N: Dirty.  
SR: ...

You smile, placing your phone down on the counter and preparing for Spencer's arrival. You mix together the candy you had gotten at the store in one big bowl, Snickers, Gummy Bears, Dots, Kit-Kats, Peanut M&Ms, and Watermelon flavored Icebreaker mints. 

What? They taste good.

You pull out the five different flavors of poptarts you had impulsively bought, toasting them and placing them on a plate. You also open your box of Caprisun, taking the pouches out and shoving them into your refrigerator door. It's been too long since you've had one, and you force yourself to wait 'till Spencer gets here.

With the "food" taken care of, you head to your room, pulling on an ex-boyfriend's sweatshirt. You rummage around in your closet some more, deciding on a pair of red and pink plaid sweatpants, also from one of your exes. In fact, about 1/5 of your entire wardrobe consisted of things taken from your exes, and honestly, you have no regrets. They're some of your favorite articles of clothing. 

You head to your bathroom, debating whether or not to put any makeup on. In the end, you put on a light layer of mascara, swiping your signature strawberry lip gloss over your mouth. Strawberry scented. You remember Spencer yelling at you, and look down at the bottle in your hand. Sick of your strawberry scent, he had said, and you had remember having gotten so upset over it. You frown, wiping your lips with the back of your sleeve and putting away your strawberry lip gloss in your bottom drawer, instead pulling out a peach-scented one that your sister had given you for your birthday one year. 

You amble out back into your living room, turning on the TV to make sure you're on the right channel. You pop popcorn, placing all of the goodies on your living room table and getting an extra blanket out just in case. You check your phone, 8:14. You tap your fingers on your leg, wondering what to do, and ultimately FaceTime Emily.

"Hey babe! What's going on?" Emily asks, setting down her phone sideways to reveal JJ sitting next to her. 

"Hey! Nothing at all, I just had a few minutes. I don't mean to interrupt, though." you say, crossing your legs beneath you and waving at JJ. 

JJ waves back, saying, "Actually, you have perfect timing. Emily keeps trying to ask me about my exes, and believe me, they're all probably better buried in the past." JJ says with a scoff, eating something out of a take-out box. Chinese, if you had to guess.

Emily throws her hands up, exasperated. "It's not fair that you all got to comb through my life and learn about my psycho ex, Doyle, and I don't know a single person who has caught the eye of our darling Jennifer Jareau." Emily says, shaking her head and taking a sip out of a familiar looking nondescript blue styrofoam cup. Emily presses a hand to where you assume her scar from Doyle is, pouting at JJ. 

JJ sighs, brandishing her chopsticks once at Emily before conceding. "Fine. But only the most recent one of my exes." JJ says, leaning back.

Emily grins, looking like a child on Christmas morning (or whatever holiday you celebrate!).

JJ laughs at her expression, setting down the takeout box. "His name was Will, and I met him on a case. He's from New Orleans, and he has this accent that makes him ridiculously hard to understand. Still, the long-distance was too much, so we broke up. That's all there is to the story." JJ says with a shrug, stealing Emily's drink and taking a sip.

Emily is unphased, and continues to ask questions about this "Will."

You hear a knock on your door, and check the time. 8:30. You notice your phone has quieted, and you hear Emily ask, "Y/N, did someone just knock on your door? Oh my god JJ what if y/n has a secret lover she's not telling us about?" 

Emily and JJ start bombarding you with questions, and you laugh, blowing them a kiss and ending the call, effectively cutting off their ramblings and inquiries. You quickly walk to the door, glancing once through the peephole before opening it. Spencer's standing in the hallway, wearing his MIT hoodie and a pair of maroon sweats. He's carrying his work bag, and you let him in, raising an eyebrow. "What's the work bag for?" you ask, closing the door behind him and plugging your phone in. 

"Did you know an estimated 300 million new plastic bags end up in the Atlantic Ocean each year? I always bring my bag to the store to carry my stuff in when I can." Spencer says with a shrug, slipping off his bag and opening it, revealing different colorful candies and a huge Sprite bottle. 

"And you don't have any other bags besides your work bag?" you ask, laughing. Spencer shrugs again, only now he's smiling, walking to your toaster and putting in blueberry frozen Eggos. You grudgingly approve of his store-haul choices as your empty out his bag, revealing more Peanut M&Ms, Reeses, Twix, Paydays, Twizzlers, mint Dove chocolates, and Gummy Worms. Add that to a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles, the Sprite bottle, and the Eggos, you have to admit... Spencer has taste. 

"So, how's my junk?" Spencer asks, emptying out his bag into the large bowl already filled with your own candy choices. You choke on a laugh, clutching the edge of your counter as you silently laugh. Spencer laughs too, quietly and to himself, slipping off his shoes at the door and brushing his hair out of his face. You check the time again, and motion for him to come sit on the couch. "It's about to start." you say, grabbing a fuzzy grey blanket. To your surprise, Spencer bypasses the extra blanket, taking the one you were unfolding and draping it over both of your laps. 

You grab a s'mores poptart, turning up the volume. "The Twilight movies actually grossed over 3.3 billion dollars worldwide." Spencer says, filling a cup with Sprite and sticking a Twizzler in it to use as a straw. You follow suit, smiling at the creation. "Jennifer Lawrence was also originally considered to play Bella Swan." Spencer continues, grabbing a Twix. You shake your head. You'll never get over the ridiculous amount of random things that Spencer knew about. 

By the time the movie's over, you and Spencer have gotten closer on the couch, all the way to the point where his right side and your left side are touching. 

You let out a deep breath, flopping your head back on the couch. "So. What'd you think?" you ask with a smile, sitting up again and chewing on a gummy worm. Spencer opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes shoot open. Wow, Dr. Spencer Reid speechless. You thought this day would never come, and you savor it. After a moment, however, Spencer gets ahold of himself, and says, "Did you know-" you cut him off quickly, placing your hand on his knee. 

"No, no, no, Spencer not this time, no facts. Just tell me your initial reaction." you say. You then notice the sudden and dramatic change in Spencer's body language. His entire body is stiffer, and his jaw is clenched, his eyes staring straight forward. You remind yourself of his aversion to touch, and quickly remove your hand, clearing your throat and shifting, tucking your hair behind your ears. 

"Sorry." you murmur quietly. 

"Don't be." Spencer responds equally as quietly, staring down at his hands.

You feel something well up inside of you, and it bursts. "Spence, are we friends?" you blurt out, hating the edge of desperation in your voice.

It take Spencer a moment to respond, and when he does, all he says is, "I don't know." His face is unreadable, his voice calm and practically devoid of all emotion.

Spencer doesn't say anything more, and you nod, tapping your fingers on your leg. You start cleaning up, throwing away empty Caprisun pouches and placing the empty poptarts plate in the sink. 

You glance at your phone, it's nearly 11. "It's getting late." you call, leaning back against the counter. Spencer still hasn't said anything, and you feel yourself getting frustrated. Why did this always have to happen? One moment you think you might be friends, and the next you're both shut off and distant.

You tuck your hair behind your ears again, your fingernails scraping against your scalp from your vexation. 

"Right." you hear Spencer say, and he gets up, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his bag. "Thanks for having me, y/n." he says quietly, opening the door and closing it shut behind him.

You dig your fingernails into your arms, staring at the barren door. You feel tears well up behind your eyes, and quickly find a spot of the wall to focus on, willing the tears to subside. You breathe in and out, deeply, curling your hands around the edge of your counter as a tumultuous battle of emotions wages within you.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps outside of your door, and without realizing it, you already know they're Spencer's. The shadow beneath your door hesitates for a moment, then knocks. You gasp softly, rocked back into reality. You blink away the moisture in your eyes, your breathing shallow and quick as you make your way to your door again. You simultaneously feel dread and excitement, anger and confusion. 

You pause, then open the door. Spencer's there, the light from the hallway behind him casting rays of light through his hair and around his silhouette.

Spencer steps into your apartment, forcing you to take an unsteady step back. He shuts the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still mad. pls leave comments to cheer me up heh! much love
> 
> also AHHHHH IT'S LITERALLY 2:31 AM RIGHT NOW


	14. *aha*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all we hit the 100 kudos mark.... THANK U GUYS ILY MWAH
> 
> (actually we're at 141 rn... I literally cannot believe this thank u thank u)

You head into the bullpen, Spencer trailing behind you. Hotch is waiting, however, and he calls you and Spencer into his office. You panic, wondering what this is about.

Hotch couldn't possibly know about last night... could he?

"Good morning. We've got a new case, one we're teaming up with the Crimes Against Children (CAC) team on. We need someone to go undercover as a child trafficking buyer, and it'll be safer if there are two of you. Should you both agree, we'll have you two go undercover as a married couple, attending a gala and hopefully moving forward from there." Hotch says, opening his drawer and pulling out two files.

You freeze. Married couple? "H-" you clear your throat, "how long?" you ask, your voice pitched higher than usual as you stop your hands from fidgeting.

"Hopefully only about two months. The sellers are cautious, which is why CAC called us in. They haven't been having much luck." Hotch replies, mouth set in a firm line as always.

"Okay." Spencer says from next to you, and your eyes widen at him. Spencer's jaw ticks, and you quickly look back at Hotch.

"Right, yeah, of course. Are those our files?" you ask, pointing at the two files Hotch had gotten out.

Hotch nods, handing you and Spencer each a file. "Good. We'll debrief in the conference room, I'll have Garcia get everyone to join us. We're hoping the undercover job will be minimal danger, but I'm having Garcia send a "going undercover" brochure to the both of your phones. We're hoping to start immediately, so contact who you need to contact and cancel appointments." Hotch says, sitting down.

You take that as dismissal, and walk out, clutching your file. You can't believe what you just agreed to. And how could Spencer just act like it was no big deal? You'd have to act _married._ You grab Spencer by the arm, yanking him around the corner.

You open your mouth, only to realize you don't really have anything to say. "Spence.." you sputter, releasing his arm.

Spencer glances around, clenching his jaw. "Look, I know we're going to have to talk about last night at some point, but not now, okay? After the case." he says, looking down at the file in his hands.

You nod silently, swallowing. Spencer looks at you, a bit concerned, before turning and walking away. You follow him, sorting everything out in your head and wondering if you could tell your family that you're going undercover. Your phone pings, and you see the how-to-go-undercover brochure that Hotch had mentioned. You sigh, bookmarking the page.

You enter the conference room, and pretty soon everyone else joins. Hotch explains the situation, the 'married' part of the undercover act earning a few smirks and glances from the rest of the team. Instead of his usual "wheels up in 30," Hotch tells everyone that we'll be meeting on the plane first thing tomorrow morning.

"Spencer, y/n, feel free to contact me about any questions. It says it in your file, but you guys will have a house provided, as well as some clothes. Most of the essentials will be there already, so pack light. You guys have technically been living there for the past few months, so you can't exactly bring in your suitcases." Hotch says, ending the briefing.

Morgan elbows you on the way out, grinning. "Hey Ms. Reid." he says, and Emily joins you two, smiling and hooking her arm through Morgan's.

You give him a look, laughing and sitting down at your desk. You go through your work monotonously, using your lunch break to call Rick and cancel your foreseeable future appointments. He doesn't ask questions, just assures you his door is always open. You study the brochure, rolling the pen Spencer had given you so long ago between your fingers. Spencer doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day, even when he comes to help you with your files and on the way home.

The gravity between the two of you has shifted, and you aren't really sure what to do about it.

Before you had left work, Hotch had given you and Spencer wedding bands and rings. You sit in your apartment now, slipping the ring onto your left hand.

You look down at it and sigh. Because of the undercover names, you are now Mrs. Gubler. Spencer's fake name is Matthew, and yours is Lorelai.

You toss and turn that night, sleeping in fitful starts.

You get out of bed in the morning, throwing some makeup and little daily things in a large purse. You change into a casual and non-work set of clothes, slipping the ring on your finger.

You drive to the airport with Spencer, both of you ignoring the rings on the other's hand.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You pull up to the house, parking in the driveway.

You and Spencer get out, heading into the backdoor. Spencer disarms the alarm, and you look around.

There weren't any cameras in the house, but there were emergency speakers hidden in every room that you would be able to use to communicate with the team. You walked around, getting the lay of the land. A living room, kitchen, laundry room, two bathrooms, a hallway closet, and a bedroom. _One_ bedroom. You enter it cautiously, taking note of the queen-sized bed in the far corner of the room.

You open the closet, finding rows of clothes hung up inside. You pull out an earthy-green (or whatever color you want), off-the-shoulders, floor length dress, figuring it's for the gala tomorrow night. You find an accompanying pair of heels, as well as an emergency speaker, hidden behind the shoe rack.

You exit the closet, only to come face-to-face with Spencer.

"So." you say, still holding your purse.  
"So." Spencer repeats, hands in his pockets.  
You glance away, toying with the wedding ring on your finger. Spencer clears his throat, turning away and walking towards the bed. He pulls off his sweater vest and tie, throwing them on the right side of the bed.

You head to the connected bathroom, setting up your stuff near one of the two sinks. You wince at the one shower. Going undercover for two months is going to be a pain in the ass.

You and Spencer eat cereal for dinner, sitting on the kitchen counter.

You finish first, heading to the closet and cursing the people who had provided the clothes. There were no pajama shorts, only nightdresses. You sigh and pull out a grey one, bringing it into the bathroom and pulling it on after your shower.

By the time you're done with your nightly routine, Spencer's sitting in the bed, reading. He glances up, taking in the nightgown and quickly looking back down at his book again.

You grab the phone the CAC team gave you, scrolling through your four contacts. Jonathan, aka Hotch, a supposed childhood friend, Matthew, Spencer of course, your supposed husband, and two other random contacts that belonged to two CAC members.

You throw it on your bedside table, tucking your legs in to allow Spencer to get off the bed. He heads to the bathroom, showering and doing whatever it is he does before heading back. He crawls back over to his side of the bed, refusing to meet your eye.

You turn out the light, pulling the mattress up to your chin. You continue to lie awake, the foot of space between you and Spencer simultaneously making you want to nervous-throw up and scream at him. A few minutes later, you sit up, flicking the lamp back on.

Spencer opens his eyes, sitting up as well.

You stare forward, tugging uncomfortably on the hem of your nightdress. You bite the inside of your cheek, crossing your ankles under the covers.\

"Look, I know you said after the case, but this is ridiculous. We're _married_ for goodness' sake. We have to go and parade in front of a bunch of sick-ass people tomorrow and act like we're in love." you let out a breath, looking over at Spencer. "Please. Let's get this out of the way now. It'll make tonight and the rest of the case easier to deal with."

Spencer looks down at his hands, then nods. "Fine." Spencer looks over at you.

_**(FLASHBACK TO TWO NIGHTS AGO FROM LAST CHAPTER)** _

Spencer steps forward, causing you to take an unsteady step back. Spencer closes the door behind him.

You look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly at a pace that matches his.

After a moment passes and Spencer says nothing, you whisper, "Spencer."

You see him swallow, his adams apple bobbing as his jaw clenches. "You're confusing, you know that?" Spencer whispers back, his head tilted down to the point where one of his curls hangs over his eyes.

You frown, reaching up to grip his forearm lightly. "Spence, what are you talking about?" you murmur.

Spencer raises his head, his eyes meeting yours. "I mean," Spencer says, clenching his jaw. "you're confusing. Right now, I want to do something that I never would've wanted to do just a few hours ago. And I don't know what you're thinking."

Your eyes widen, and you reach up to grip his other forearm, so that now you're both holding onto the bottom of each other's upper arms. "Tell me." you say, gripping his arms tightly to keep your hands from shaking. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you want to do."

Spencer moves his right hand, bringing it to cradle the back of your neck. "I want to do this." he murmurs, leaning forward.

You meet him halfway, surprised at yourself, but ultimately losing your train of thought as your hands wrap around his waist.

He kisses you, slowly, his other hand spread low on your back. You bring one hand up to the back of his head, threading his hair through your fingers.

He deepens the kiss, and you let him, stumbling back a step but not stopping. He's warm, and you can feel his chest rise and fall against yours, a steady beat. His hand is still spread against your back, causing your entire lower body to feel unsteady.

Every time you try to ask yourself what the fuck you're doing and who you're doing it with, he renews the kiss, and you let the thought die. Pretty soon, you stop caring altogether.

You finally break apart, your lips frozen from where he's not there to warm them. Your forehead comes to rest on his shoulder, and you breathe slowly.

“what the fuck, Spencer.” you murmur into his shoulder.

His hands remain as they were, your hand slipping out of his hair to meet the other around his waist.

"Are you tired?" Spencer murmurs, his jaw against the top side of your head.

You straighten up and take your forehead off his shoulder, giving him a small nod.

Spencer keeps one hand on your back and the other on your arm, leading you to your bedroom. He pulls back the sheets for you, gently slipping the earrings out of your ears once you've laid down and placing them on your bedside table. He starts to pull away and you stop him, pulling back the sheets on the other side of the bed. Spencer hesitates, then slips off his shoes and belt, joining you under the covers.

You move closer to him and he moves closer to you, his arm falling around your waist and the top of your head nestled under his chin.

He gently kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering, and you fall asleep.

_**(FLASHBACK OVER)** _

Spencer's eyes bore into yours, the light behind you casting shadows on his cheekbones. "Look, y/n, I don't know what to say." Spencer shifts against the headboard. "I don't... I don't regret it." Spencer says quietly, facing forwards.

"Me neither." you say firmly, tapping his wrist. "But I want to know if that's something we're going to continue not regretting. You're a dick, but I don't hate you. I'm a bitch, but I'm pretty sure you don't hate me either." you say, twisting around to face him. "At least, maybe not anymore. It's your call." you say, softer this time.

Spencer lets out a deep breath, twisting to face you as well. He reaches a hand out, gripping your forearm. "First of all, I never hated you, no matter how much I told myself I did. And lets just sleep tonight, okay? We're supposed to be married, so that means we'll probably kiss again at some point, very possibly in public with the rest of the team watching. Lets just try this out, and not label anything yet." Spencer says softly, his hand warm on your arm.

You nod, giving him a small and tired smile, turning the light back out. This time the two of you immediately settle together in the middle of the bed, his arm coming down to wrap around you and your head nestling under his.

Right as you slip into a dream, you feel his lips press a kiss to the top of your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time someone comments something I scream into my pillow (out of joy) you guys have NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME SO THANK U <33333


	15. gala apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you GUYS
> 
> my power was out all day yesterday so I couldn't update! 
> 
> sorry

You wake to the feeling of someone's leg on top of yours.

You start to shift, slowly, trying not to disturb Spencer.

"Good morning." you hear Spencer murmur, his voice rough (MORNING VOICE AHH) and half-blocked out by his pillow.  
"I didn't mean to wake you." you murmur back, brushing the hair out of your face.

Spencer shifts, running a hand through his hair and sitting up sleepily. He blinks, bringing the heels of his hands to push against his eyes.

"It's fine. I can't believe I forgot to set the alarm. Do you know what time it is, Lorelai?" Spencer asks, and you're momentarily shocked and bewildered by your fake name.  
"I figured we should start using them now so we don't slip up later." Spencer explains, pulling the sheets away from his body.  
"Right." you say, getting up and bending down to grab your phone off the charger. "It's 10:34 AM. Hotc- I mean, Jonathan texted. He wants us to quiz each other on our fake lives." you continue, yawning.  
Spence groans, getting out of bed and padding to the restroom. "I remember every detail down to the font, but sure, let's go over it." he calls from the restroom, and you can hear the sink running. 

"Hey Matthew," you call, trying out his new name on your tongue.  
"Hm?" Spence calls back, mouth full of toothpaste.  
"Cereal again?"  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
After an uneventful day of memorizing Lorelai and Matthew Gubler's entire history, you and Spence eat cereal for the fourth meal in a row.  
Lorelai and Matthew got married last month, which is why the rings are so squeaky clean. You groan at the thought of acting like silly newlyweds, but alas, duty calls.  
They met 3 years ago in Seattle and started dating a week after that. They have a connection (undercover CAC agent) that set them up with the gala invite, and they're willing to pay a handsome amount for a brunette, 13-17 year old girl. Other than that, the history is pretty normal, like Lorelai's family, occupation (radiologist), and education.

You finish your fruit loops, staring dejectedly at the empty cereal container. After putting your bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, you leave Spence sitting on the counter to go get ready for the gala. You open the closet door, grabbing the heels and dress and heading to the bathroom. You shower quickly, blow-drying your hair and putting on a strapless bra.

You're feeling bold, and pull on a pair of black underwear. Even if no one would be there to see it, you figure it would give you a bit of courage. Standing practically naked in front of the bathroom sink, you still can't bring yourself to put on the beautiful dress. Instead, you do your makeup, a light do-over consisting of colored lip gloss, mascara, eye liner, blush, and, of course, lotion. 

You take a deep breath, unzipping the back of the dress and stepping into it gently. You pull it on, smoothing it down with your hands. You continue to pull at the skirt, avoiding looking up at the mirror. 

"Hey, are you almost ready? We're leaving in 20." you hear Spence call from the bedroom.  
You call back that you'll be ready in a moment, and finally look at yourself in the mirror. The dress is drop-dead gorgeous. You lift your leg up to slip into your heels, and gasp to find a long slit all the way up your leg. You swallow, stepping into your heels and trying in vain to zip up the top half of your dress zipper. 

You slip on matching earrings and rings, fluffing your hair out one more time from nerves before cracking open the bathroom door.

"Hey, Matthew? Could you zip up the top of my dress?" you ask, sticking your head through the crack.  
Spencer is already dressed in his suit, reading whilst standing so as not to wrinkle the fabric.  
He looks over and nods, setting down the book carefully and pushing the door open into the bathroom. 

He steps in, then stops, taking in the dress. His eyes roam down, then up, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Slowly, he walks towards you, walking around your side to stand behind you.  
"Hair." he murmurs softly, and you pull your hair out of the way. 

You had managed to get most of the zipper up, so Spencer only had a bit to do. Still, it felt like a lifetime, the top of his hands skimming your bare back when he reached the very top. 

You turn around, looking up at him. 

"You look nice." he murmurs, slipping a hand onto your waist.

"Practice?" he continues with a slight smile, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours softly. You start to bring your hand up to his head, but he pulls back.  
"Now, now." he murmurs, head dipped and voice low. "Lets save it for the gala, hm?" 

You nod, surprisingly out of breath, and you step back, refreshing your lip gloss.  
Spence wipes your lip gloss off of his own mouth, and you smirk over at him. He just raises an eyebrow, running a quick hand through his hair and slipping back out of the bathroom. 

You soon follow suit, flipping Spence off when he laughs at you for tripping in your heels. In return, you sit on the couch, propping your leg up to reveal way more from the slit than could be considered conservative. Spencer walks in the room and quickly looks away, flushing and clearing his throat. You smile to yourself, standing up again and grabbing your handbag. Spencer narrows his eyes at you, slipping a pinky ring on. It was actually a mini ring-taser, a minor precaution since you couldn't bring guns. 

He brandishes the ring at you, and you act mock-scared, slipping into the driver's seat. Despite your entire day of memorizing, you suddenly start becoming nervous. You're a profiler, not an actress. You just hope your lies will hold up to scrutiny. 

You pull up to the address, reluctantly handing the car keys to a valet. You and Spencer walk inside, immediately met by a metal detector. A burly man in a suit checks your tickets, then grins and lets the two of you walk past. You stop at the coat room, taking a tag and slipping off your coat to expose your shoulders to the cold and crisp air. 

You start fidgeting with your wedding ring, and Spencer places a hand over yours. "Relax." he says softly through a smile as the two of you walk through the cavernous room.

You expect him to pull his hand away, but he slips his hand into yours, intertwining you guys' fingers. You smile at strangers, itching to put handcuffs on every one of them. Instead, you purposely lead Spencer to walk in front of the guy who looks like he's in charge, a rather skinny man with a rough beard and maroon suit. 

As soon as you're within hearing range, you giggle, placing a hand on Spencer's other arm and leaning into him with a radiant smile, one that you hope isn't coming off as fake. Spencer gives you a surprised smile, but quickly gets his emotions under control and grins, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair out of your face. A band starts playing music and you notice people starting to partner up and sway. 

To your surprise, Spencer takes charge, pulling you towards the floor and placing a hand on your waist. He pulls you in for a kiss, and your entire body tingles as his teeth gently scrape against your bottom lip. He pulls away but pulls you in, moving his hand from your waist to wrap around your back. 

"You look nice." you say, still blushing hard from the public display of affection. Hotch/Jonathan mentioned earlier that there would be a CAC agent somewhere in the room keeping watch, and that that same agent will have planted a small camera somewhere for Garcia to stream to the team. Spencer pulls you closer, and your chest rises and falls in time with his. 

"And you're flushed as a rose." Spencer says back, his other hand still intertwined with yours. That just causes you to blush harder, and you breathe deeply, trying to get yourself under control. 

The short song ends, and you pull apart, Spencer still not letting go of your hand. 

"Shall we find our table?" He asks, pulling a little card with a table number that had been given to us by the metal-detector man out of his pocket.  
You nod, and Spencer leads you to table 6, pulling out your chair for you. You take a long sip of water, the ice-cold refreshment cooling down your cheeks. 

"Hello, I see you two are new here. I'm Vincent Herren, your host." says the skinny man from earlier, extending a hand and smiling. Spencer shakes it, smiling back at him. You do the same, crossing your ankles demurely. "It's a pleasure to be here." you say sweetly, glancing out to the people dancing for effect. "And it's a pleasure to have you here." Vincent says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the top. Spencer quickly finds your hand again, lacing your fingers together firmly. 

Vincent notices, and laughs. "Oh, don't you worry about me. My lovely wife Analia is just over there at table one. How I miss young love." he says happily, sticking his hands in his pockets. Vincent nods once more at the two of you, starting to head away to greet his other guests before pausing and doubling back. "By the way," he begins slyly. "the coat room door is always unlocked." He winks conspiratorially at you, and you grin back. He finally walks away, talking to an elder lady with a hat the size of an old steam train engine on her head. 

You look around, and find yourself unsure of what to do next. As you're looking around, you feel Spencer tense next to you. You look over quickly to find an odd look on his face. He quickly schools it back into neutrality, but you nudge him, frowning slightly. 

He hesitates then smiles at you, standing up and pulling you up with him. "How about we put that coat room to good use?" he says with a grin, pulling you around the corner and into the unlocked room. 

The moment the door is closed behind the two of you, he crashes his lips to yours, and you quickly reciprocate, all of the questions you had for him flying out of your head. Suddenly, Spencer starts kissing along your jaw, headed for your ear. "There's probably microphones in here. Slip this in your bra, it's a mic for the team. The CAC agent slipped them to me." he whispers quietly between kisses, nipping once at the bottom of your ear before pressing you against a wall between coats. He presses your hand back against the wall, and you can feel a small shape being held between both of your palms. He kisses you on the lips once more, his other hand riding low on your hip. You curl your hand around the mic, pressing your hand against his chest while secretly dropping the mic down your dress. You gently bite his lower lip, and Spencer grabs your wrists, still pushing you back against the wall. His hand drops down lower, and you can feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your leg through the dress slit. You run your hands through his hair, reveling in the feeling of his curls. "Think it's been long enough?" he whispers into your ear, his soft breaths making your hands curl around his suit. You hum back, and you can hear him laugh softly. "You're right, probably best to stay a little while longer." he murmurs. With that, he kisses you again, this time softly. His hands come up to cradle your head, and you wrap your hands around his back as you tilt your head. 

Finally, the two of you break apart, and Spencer smooths his hair, running a quick hand through it. He continues to straighten out his suit, and you quickly fix yourself up, clearing your throat and tucking your hair behind your ears way more times than necessary. 

Spencer holds the door open and you duck through, his hand catching yours and intertwining. In the light, you notice a small smudge of lip gloss on the corner of his mouth, and begin to reach your hand up to wipe it away. Spencer quickly grabs that hand with his other hand, giving you a small sideways smile.  
"Leave it." he murmurs, leading you back to your table, which has considerably filled up since you've been away. 

You realize with a start that the team had probably been able to hear the two of you making out through the mics. You blush, quickly sipping at your water. 

You feel Spencer hook his ankle around yours, and look over at him to find him conversing with the man sitting next to him. He had done it without thinking. You smile, turning to the lady next to you. 

"Hi, I'm Lorelai." you say, twisting to face her. 

It's the elderly lady from earlier with the huge hat, only now she's somehow gotten rid of it in a way where you can't see it anywhere. 

"Hi, I'm Rebecca." she replies, smiling warmly. You dimly wonder how predators like these can seem so nice. It doesn't feel natural.  
The two of you converse politely, flipping through all topics except the gala and why you're here. Spencer next to you seems to be having better luck, and you constantly hear him laughing and chatting with the rest of the men at the table. 

"So," Rebecca says, nodding at Spence. "that's your husband?" she asks, smiling. You nod, smiling back at her. "Matthew Gubler. We got married a month ago, in Vegas." you reply, hoping that you hadn't sounded too much like you were repeating a script. 

Rebecca nods and excuses herself, stepping away from the table. 

Suddenly, Vincent's voice rings out over the microphone.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm pleased to announce that tonight, our special bidding is about to commence."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally substitute the dress make/color for whatever you want... live that y/n life
> 
> kudos and comments ALWAYS appreciated!


	16. literally fuck you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yelling! 
> 
> I've totally digressed from what I was originally writing this story for lmfao.
> 
> whatever I'm here for the ride <3

TW// bruises, blood, abuse/torture

You throw the house keys on the counter, stepping out of your heels and collapsing on the couch.

After suffering through two and a half hours of an old vintage pottery auction, you felt like getting drunk and taking a bath. Still, the mission was kind of accomplished? I mean, Vincent had spoken to you and Spencer once more before you had left and said he would be in touch. That was as much of a win as you were hoping for. 

"You're going to be sore and achey tomorrow morning if you sleep there. Come on." Spencer says, tugging on your arm. You grunt back, your face stuffed in the pillow. Spencer laughs, grabbing your waist and rolling you off the couch. You squeal, falling and hitting the floor. You feel Spencer's hand behind your head, making sure it didn't hit the ground. "Now, come on, y/n. Just 23 and 3/29 feet away is a very soft and nice bed waiting for you." Spencer says, standing over you and straddling you as he grabs both of your elbows. He pulls and you sit up, making a face at him and slowly getting to your feet. "Fine." you say before yawning, slowly trudging your way over to your bedroom. "But only because I feel like it, I hope you know." you say, lazily gesturing at him over your shoulder. 

You groan, flopping onto the bed. "Who the hell pays 300,000 for a broken tea cup? I don't care if Michael Jackson peed in it, I'd much rather spend my money on a boatload of powdered donettes." you complain, reaching to plug in your phone. Spencer takes the phone from your hand, plugging it in for you. "Come on." Spencer murmurs, coaxing the sheets out from underneath your legs. He then proceeds to cover you with them, gently taking out your earrings, rings, and the one bobby-pin on the back of your head that you hadn't realize he had noticed. 

"Thanks." you mutter grudgingly, curling your legs. Spencer starts to move away, and your arm shoots out to latch onto his elbow. "Wh- y/n?" Spencer says, being pulled back by his suit jacket. You just smile and remove his jacket, throwing it onto the floor before patting the space next to you. Spence hesitates, then proceeds to crawl in. 

You gesture for him to roll over. "Congrats, lover boy. It's your turn to be little spoon." you say, sidling up behind him and draping your arm around his waist.  
"Whatever did I do to earn this?" Spencer mutters, half-asleep if his voice is any indication.  
You smirk, reaching your other hand up to play with his hair. "You're a better kisser than I would've thought." you whisper into his ear, shifting on the bed. As you shift, you feel something move against your breast. "Fuck!" you exclaim, shooting up. Spencer quickly sits up too, looking at you in alarm. You reach into your dress top, making Spencer blush. You pull out the little mic from the CAC agent, feeling your face heat as you toss it across the room. Realization dawns on Spencer, and he blushes even harder, quickly undoing his tie and removing his own mic before also throwing it across the room. 

You moan, putting your face in your hands. Spencer starts laughing, quietly at first before doubling over and grabbing onto your knee for support. You let out a sigh and a smile, cringing as you shove Spencer playfully. "Oh my god." you mutter, resuming your position as big spoon from before. "Emily and Morgan are going to have a field day with that one."

Spencer continues to shake from laughter, and you threaten to choke him if he doesn't stop.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"NO- Spencer! Get- off. NO me!" you shout, hitting his arms as he presses you to him, laughing. He lets go of you, but before you can react, he pushes you towards the KIA Soul, running to the BMW. Spencer hops in the front seat, and you glare at him, giving the gesture of "go fuck yourself" before resignedly sliding into the KIA driver's seat.

You drive to "work" solemnly, vowing that you'll make sure Spencer pays for taking the good car. You've both been undercover for about a week, and cereal has become a staple in both of your lives. 

Vincent still hasn't contacted either one of you, but the team says it's still too soon to cancel the mission. You sigh, going through the monotonous work of an utterly fake radiologist. Patients keep coming up to you and asking you questions that you don't know the answer to. Instead, you clean, checking in with Hotch/Jonathan once a day. You're on your lunch break, doing your best to flatten out a dollar bill for the vending machine with a pen, when you feel your phone chime. You glance down, and see that there's an address and date from an unknown number. You quickly text Spence and Hotch the news, making sure no one around you can see you. 

Vending machine forgotten, you spend the rest of the day stressing. It's not like there was a dressing memo included, so you weren't sure whether to dress classy, middle school Spanish teacher, or bland. You fidget with your wedding ring, a bad habit, and drive home going 6 miles over. 

The moment you get home (you dimly wonder when you started considering living in this place with Spencer as "home"), you stress-pour yourself a bowl of captain crunch, grabbing a spoon and heading to your closet. Surely the actual buying of children wouldn't be going on, right? I mean, Vincent barely knew the two of you. It couldn't be this easy.

You hear the front door close, and you sigh in relief. You walk around the bend in the hallway, calling out, "Hey Spence thank goodne-" 

You try to scream through the gag, groping around on the floor and trying vainly to see where the cereal spoon you dropped is through the sack on your head. 

"Spence? What an odd way to say Matthew." you hear a cool voice from behind you say. The unfamiliar voice then proceeds to tell someone to move you, and you thrash, getting a good kick in before someone handcuffs you. The person grabs you by the legs, dragging you from the house and into what feels like a van. 

The van begins moving, and you do your best to keep track of where you are. You're soon lost, however, still not entirely used to the new terrain. You inch around, trying desperately to find _anything._

"Get her to stop moving." you hear the commanding voice call, and you just thrash harder, the skin under your handcuffs becoming rubbed raw. 

Someone kicks you, hard, and you gasp for breath, momentarily stilled. Once you've gotten your breath back, however, you move again, feeling the difference in the vibrations when you're closer to the tires and when you're farther away.

"I said," a voice whispers above you. "Stop. Moving." 

Something hits you in the back of the head, hard, and you black out, your last thought wondering where Spencer is.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Lorelai."

You groan, your head pounding.

"Lorelai? Oh my god. Wake up, keep your eyes open. Lorelai, come on." you hear a very familiar voice say. For some reason, you can't put a name to the voice, and all you know is that you trust them. You lean in their direction, trying to force your eyes open. 

"Finally, the three undercover agents all awake and together." you hear a man say. Vincent. His name is Vincent. And the voice from earlier... Spencer. 

Everything comes rushing back to you, and you wrench your eyes open, sitting up and trying to scream. There's a gag in your mouth, and your hands and legs are bound to a chair. You look over to find Spencer next to you, the emotions on his face unreadable.

Wait... _three_ undercover agents? You look to your other side and find a woman, somewhere in her 30s, with light brown hair and dark-shaded lips. You realize this must be the CAC agent. 

How had Vincent found you guys out? You remember calling out Spencer's name, and chide yourself. You shouldn't have been so careless, dammit. 

"Do you promise not to scream? Not that it would be of much consequence, anyways, no one will hear you. Still, it's tedious work to have to deal with people screaming all day long." you hear a man say, the commanding one from earlier in the van. He lifts the gag out of your mouth, and you take in a shaky breath, taking in your surroundings. The man is the opposite of Vincent, young, burly, black-haired, and in possession of a nose piercing. 

Despite the perilous situation, you feel everything in you slowing down, your heart rate subsiding and your breaths becoming deep and even. 

"Listen-" you begin, leaning forward as much as the handcuffs allow.

"No, no, you little shit. _You_ listen. I run a nice establishment, and I will not have pests like you trying to infiltrate my business and disregard my customers' privacy." Vincent snarls, picking up a spiky baseball bat-looking thing. "So, I'll ask you once. Who are you, who do you work for, what do you know, and who else is working here with you." he says, approaching the CAC agent. She just bares her teeth at him, struggling against her restraints.

Vincent comes up behind her, rolling the spiked baseball bat over her legs. "Believe me, darling, you don't want me to push down right now. Answer. My. Questions." he says viciously, pressing down a bit on the bat until blood wells up from her thighs. The agent just closes her eyes, jerking every time Vincent moves the bat. 

"STOP" Spencer yells from next to you, leaning as far forwards in his chair as possible. "Stop it." he says again, blood running down his hands from where the handcuffs dig into his wrist. 

Vincent narrows his eyes, stepping up and away from the agent. "Now now, _Spence,_ Vincent says mockingly. If you're getting so worked up over her, how will you feel when I torture your so-called wife?" he asks, approaching you. 

You panic, begging your mind to dissociate. It refuses, and you're forced to remain aware, Spencer's shouts from next to you being muffled by the burly man shoving a gag in Spence's mouth. You breathe in deeply, feeling your hands shake. Vincent stalks towards you, crouching down in front of you. You buck forwards, trying to knock the chair over and into him. Vincent just laughs, tossing the spiked bat onto the floor. 

"Shut up." he hisses, slapping you across the face. Your cheek burns, and you gasp, continuing to wobble about in your chair. "Bones, hold her still." Vincent calls, and the burly man (Bones) comes over, latching onto your arms and holding you still. 

For an older guy, Vincent packs a punch. He throws one to your midsection, and you double over, barely sucking in a breath before he throws another one at your cheek. He kicks your shin, and you whimper, his foot connecting with the hard bone of your leg. You feel the tears coming, and you hate yourself for it, but you can't stop. 

When he's done, you're lying strapped to your chair on the cold floor. You can feel and see bruises forming everywhere, and you shut your eyes, your entire body shaking. 

Blood runs from your nose, your cheek, your collar bones, your elbows, your knees, and your legs. It's warm and sticky, and you hate the dried, cracked feeling of it as it solidifies on your skin. Spencer hasn't stopped yelling through the gag, and you wish he would stop, he's giving you a headache. Someone kicks you in the head, and you blackout yet again.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You wake in a hospital bed. The light above you is blinding, and you wince, groaning. Your entire body hurts.

"Y/N? Oh my god Y/N!" you hear a voice cry out, and soon Garcia fills your vision. 

"Y/N?" another voice says. Spencer. 

He comes up beside Garcia, a bandage plastered on his temple. 

They fill you in on what happened. After you both missed your late check-ins, the team had rushed to find you. They had finally gotten an address and had run in, only to find you and the CAC agent unconscious in the basement. Spence had been grappling with Bones, tasing him with his taser-ring. 

In the end, the bad guys were taken down, like always, and no dramatic physical damage had really been done. People filtered through, saying how glad they were that you're awake and okay. Through it all, you suffer, wanting only to find a dark corner to sleep in. 

After a little while, you're released, but your foul mood travels with you. 

It stays with you on the flight home, the drive to your apartments (Spencer drove, mostly because lifting your arms still hurts like a bitch), and even in the shower. You find yourself getting angry at the smallest things, restraining yourself from throwing things at your stove when it takes too long to heat up a can of soup. 

Someone knocks on your door, and you debate not answering. You stare at your dark bedroom longingly, but eventually walk towards the door and open it. Spencer's standing in the doorway, wearing his stupid hoodie like always. You're sure he can feel the rage radiating off of you, but he makes no indication of it, instead offering you a small smile.

"Are you alright?" he asks, still standing out in the hallway a bit awkwardly. For no reason other than he's right there in front of you, you glare at him, clutching the edge of the door tightly as you count to 10. 

"Considering I got beat up by someone old enough to be my grandfather, and now it hurts to wash my hands, no, I would not consider myself alright." you retort, hobbling back over to your stove to turn off the heat. Of course _now_ you finally heat up when I'm not watching. Useless fucking piece of god-forsaken trash-

"Y/N." You hear Spencer say from behind you. You spin in surprise, he's a lot closer than you thought he would be.

"You should talk about it." he continues, wringing his hands together.

"What's there to talk about?" you mutter nonchalantly and sarcastically, grabbing a bowl from your cabinets. "The bruises will go away soon enough. It'll all go back to normal, and I can finally take this stupid ring off." you say, wrenching the ring you had forgotten you were still wearing off of your finger and throwing it onto your kitchen counter. 

You look down at the soup, sigh dejectedly, then pour it back into your pot, covering it with the lid and sticking it in your fridge.

You whirl around to face Spencer, a feeling of frustration rising within you. "Look, I have a therapist, okay? If you want me to talk to someone so badly, I'll call him later. As for right now, I'm tired, and your face isn't helping. Go, please." you say, gripping onto the kitchen counter.

Spencer's emotions close off, and he stands up straighter. "Look, I was there with you. I've been through this before, too, so don't act like it doesn't matter and that this is all about you. Get some rest, and get your temper under control." he replies curtly, turning around and walking out without a glance back. 

You get in your bed, screaming into your pillow from frustration. Everything hurts, and you just want to sleep for a few hours.

You toss and turn that night, not getting a wink of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every kudos is cherished,
> 
> so please hit the little kudos button and add your username to the list of ppl I'll love forever <3


	17. bad vibes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey guys I was gone for SO long and I'm SORRY but I'm here now and that's what matters :)
> 
> Now that school is in full-swing my posting will probs be more like every 3-ish days (which is a lot better than every week so...)
> 
> you guys are the reason I come back to this story :) also Spencer Reid is so hot someone take away my phone ? !

"Hey Rick."

You're tired, and you can tell that it's evident in your voice, but you don't care. 

"Hey y/n, I was starting to get worried. We left quite a few things up in the air when you called to cancel everything before." Rick says, his voice sounding enviously like he was well-rested.

"Yeah, just work stuff. I'll tell you about it in one of our sessions? If that would be okay." you reply lazily, laying supinely on your couch.

"Of course! I'm glad to have you back. Say, the usual times?..." 

You and Rick hash out the details, and you throw your phone onto a chair, looking at the clock miserably. Five minutes until you need to be in the parking lot with Spencer. You sit up, holding your face in your hands, and are immediately reminded of just how bad everything _hurts._ You groan softly, slowly getting up and stretching a bit.

You down another glass of water, having read that it helps with bruises. You stick a compress on a particularly nasty bruise on your temple, achingly slipping on your heels and putting your gun in its holster. You open your phone with no purpose, scrolling through your apps without opening any of them. 

7:28

You stand up, grabbing your water bottle and sticking it in your bag, along with some 'bruise relief' cream from Walgreens. As you march down the stairs, you chide yourself for feeling so nervous. So what, if you and Spencer had left off on a bad note last night. Surely he'd understand? 

You laugh ruefully at yourself. It's Spencer, chances are you'll go back to your little hating-each-other game like closing doors before the other can get in and smuggling case files onto each others' work piles. 

You pull your sunglasses on, feeling very much like you just had the worst hangover in your life. Pushing open the door at the bottom of the stairs, you look around for Spencer. You don't see him anywhere, and frown down at your phone. 

7:30

Despite making fun of him for having made you late, Spencer was very rarely late, and never when you were waiting on him. 

7:31

You pull out your phone angrily, only to find a text from him.

SPENCER  
SR: Drove myself in.

You fume, pocketing your phone and getting into your car. You turn on the radio, only to be met by Beethoven playing. Hearing Spencer's preferred music only makes you angrier, and you quickly change to a radio station, one that's playing The Neighborhood. 

Halfway to work, you feel foolish. You never thought of yourself as someone with anger issues, and mentally take note to tell Rick of how you've been feeling. 

You pull into the parking garage, stepping out of your car and walking to the office doors. You take a deep breath, going over the plan in your head. 

1\. Assure everyone you're fine, it barely hurts anymore (lie).

2\. Seek out Spencer, and get him alone.

3\. Apologize to Spencer for being an ass.

4\. Pat yourself on the back for tying up loose ends.

You walk through the lobby quickly, running around the corner to avoid being seen by that jackass Jake from floor two. You select the BAU floor, way too sore to take the stairs today.

Immediately upon exiting the elevator, you see Garcia standing anxiously next to the stairwell with her back to you. You smile, going over and tapping her on the shoulder (lifting your arm... ow). 

"Y/N! Oh you usually take the stairs, so I was waiting here-" Garcia starts, turning around and engulfing you in a hug. "How are you feeling? Oh my god, you still have bruises everywhere!" Garcia exclaims, gingerly turning over your arms and frowning worriedly up at your temple.

"I'm fine! I swear." you say, laughing, grabbing her hands. "It barely hurts anymore, anyways." 

This seems to temporarily relax Garcia a bit, although she still continues to treat you like you're fragile and made of porcelain. 

You see Spencer across the room, and your smile wanes a bit. Before you can get to him, however, the rest of the team intercepts you, and you assure them all of the same thing you told Garcia. You severely regret not wearing long-sleeves, but it honestly would've been even more conspicuous than bruised arms in this heat. 

The worried group of teammates (sans Spencer, who's still at his desk) eventually dissipates, and you let out a breath. 

Step 1, complete. 

You put your stuff on your desk, refusing to look at the pile of work you have for today. Your arms feel shaky, and you mentally steel yourself to go and talk to Spencer. 

You shake your head. This is stupid. He hadn't even yelled at you, for goodness' sake. Maybe he wanted to get to work early and just decided to drive himself in? Either way, it's not that big of a deal.

At least, that's what you repeat to yourself as you head over to his desk. You can feel the others' eyes on you but you ignore it, gently clearing your throat to announce your presence. 

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" you ask softly, your hands kneading together in front of you.

He nods, spinning around in his chair to face you. You feel yourself flush, and you tuck your hair behind your ears. 

"I meant... privately?" you say quietly, and he nods again, this time getting up and following you to the coffee room.

Morgan smirks at you, raising an eyebrow and waggling his ring finger. You allow him a small and friendly smile, but otherwise ignore him as you push open the door. 

After checking to make sure no one else is there, you turn to Spencer, only to find him making himself a cup of coffee. You stand there awkwardly for a few moments before determining that he can listen to you _and_ pour gallons of sugar in his coffee mug at the same time.

"Look, Spence," you start, your voice rocky. You clear your throat, continuing. "I'm sorry about snapping at you the other night. And I get if you want to be alone for a bit and maybe not carpool?" you clear your throat again. "Anyways, I'm sorry. I called Rick, and I'll go get one of those stress-relieving squish toys that they advertise all the time." you nod to yourself, realizing in the moment that that was actually probably a good idea. "Oh and Rick is my.. therapist." you clarify, internally smacking yourself for being such an idiot. Why the hell would Spencer know your therapist by name? You're a rambling mess, and you hate it.

Spencer stops stirring his drink. He turns to face you, and you notice just how severe his eye bags look. He sticks his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the counter and staring off somewhere behind your shoulder. 

"y/n, I'm not exactly... mad, at you. I just... I don't know. " Spencer shakes his head, frowning in frustration. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then shuts it, turning back to his cup.

You blink. 

If Spencer is going to come to your apartment at night and tell you that you have to talk to someone, he has to do the same. You march up to him, standing next to him and bending over to look up at his face. 

"Spence. Remember that time, kind of a _really_ long time ago when you came to my apartment and told me you would always be there when I needed to talk? I'm here now and completely willing to return those sentiments. No matter what you say or may want, I _know_ you, Spence. Maybe not completely or in the way someone like JJ might, but still, I know you. I know you don't like to talk about everything you're feeling, and you told me yourself you once kept your feelings bottled up, something that I think has become a bit of a trend. Seriously, Spence, please tell me what you want to say. Or don't, as long as you talk to _someone_. Rick is really nice, if you would be more comfortable in a professional setting, and there's always JJ, of course... but also me. Right here. Just like I was right with you when Vincent had us." you say softly, standing up straight again as Spencer turns to face you.

Spencer looks down at his hands for a few moments, then nods. You let out a breath of relief. You want to ask him what he has decided, namely who he wants to talk to, but he doesn't offer an answer and you decide to let it go. 

Stepping out of the coffee room, you walk up to Morgan, still procrastinating starting work.

"So what was that with boy wonder?" Morgan asks, faking a serious look.

You roll your eyes at him jokingly, leaning against his desk. "Nothing more than _shared trauma._ " you reply, embellishing the last two words with jazz hands. 

Morgan huffs out a laugh, pulling you in for a quick hug before swatting you and telling you to go get started on your work. You mock glare at him, smacking him on top of his bald head before begrudgingly starting your work. 

You finish earlier than you would expect, and you get up, having not talked to Spencer again that day. Spencer had left a little while earlier, driving himself home instead of helping you with files like he usually does. 

You hope the two of you build back up the tentative friendship that you had before, and you find that you're worried for him. 

It's evident that he's not sleeping, and he even seems more detached than usual.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As you throw your yogurt spoon in the trash, you hear a soft knock on your door. You look through the peephole to see Spencer standing there, somewhat awkwardly, and you quickly open the door.

"Hey." he says, his hands falling limply at his sides.

"Hi." you respond, opening the door wider to let him in.

He obliges, stepping through the door frame and taking off his shoes, something he knows that you prefer. You gesture vaguely towards the couch, and the two of you head there, sitting on opposite ends. To make it less formal and stiff, you turn sideways on the couch, swinging your feet up and bringing your knees to your chest. 

You smile at him tentatively, angling your head to the side a bit and internally begging for him to say something.

"I'm tired." Spencer says quietly, emotionally, still looking forward at your bare wall. 

"Come on then, I'm tired too." you say, standing up and offering your hand. 

You suddenly remember Spencer's aversion to touch, starting to take your hand back when you feel his dry palm in yours. You have a flashback to the undercover gala, Spencer's hand intertwined in yours. You realize you'll probably never get to hold his hand like that again, and are surprised by the pang of sadness echoing within you. Still, you push past, tugging him towards your bedroom. 

No questions, no talking, no explanations, the two of you settle comfortably together like routine, as if you've done this every day of your lives. You hear and feel his breaths behind you even out after a few long minutes, but you can't fall asleep. You feel his arm draped over your side, your shoulder pressing into the space next to his. It's comfortable, it's _familiar,_ but you can't stop thinking about how he must feel. You almost regret agreeing to sleep, you want to talk to him and hear his stupid voice.

You realize you've been tense, and you let your head fall gently into the pillow, relaxing your body piece by piece until you're completely relaxed. You realize that you can feel his soft breaths on the top of your head, and you focus on that, letting your mind drift as you eventually fall into a light sleep.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He's hugging you. 

You wake, startled to find both of Spencer's arms wrapped around you. He's still asleep, but even from only hearing his breaths, he seems agitated. His fingers twitch, and you're concerned. On the one hand, you want to let him get as much sleep as possible, but on the other hand, is he... okay? You're saved from having to make a decision by Spencer waking.

He makes a small distressed noise, one you're not sure he even notices. He groans, pushing himself up into a siting position. 

"y/n?" he asks quietly, his voice rough from hours of unuse. 

"mm?" you murmur back, still laying on the bed. 

"Thank you." he murmurs, leaning back on his hands.

"mhm." you say with an upbeat tone, slowly stretching out your bruised limbs.

You wince as one of the bruises on your shoulder blade flares. Spencer looks back at you, frowning lightly. "You okay?" he asks, turning to face you on the bed.

"Yeah." you respond, slowly moving off the bed. "Just a nasty bruise on my back. I should probably get a compress or something." you say, getting up and flipping on your lamp.

"What about that?" Spencer asks, pointing to the bruise cream on your night table. 

You dismiss it with your hand, brushing your hair away from your face. "Can't reach. It'll go away soon enough, I suppose." you say, opening your bedroom door and ambling off into your living room.

Spencer follows after you, bruise cream in his hand.

"I can reach it for you." he says, reading the label and instructions.

Your chest constructs and you do your best to covertly start breathing again, turning to your sink and widening your eyes down at your drain. 

"Uh, it'll be fine." you say back, washing your hands to have something to do.

"We were married, weren't we?" you hear Spencer say, and you turn around to find him sitting at your counter, smiling and waving the tube in front of you. "Besides, it's just your back, right? I'm no masseuse, but I think I can put an ointment on." he says with a shrug, behaving nonchalantly. 

You hesitate and internally stutter, but eventually find no real reason why _not._

You shrug back, trying to match his air. "Sure."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"I'm just, uh, going to move this, okay?" you hear Spencer say, and smirk at the floor when you hear the nerves in his voice. Boy wonder isn't so unaffected after all, hm?

On the other hand, you're silently cursing yourself for wearing your sports bra. It has criss-crossing straps in the back, perfect for getting in the way of the bruising shit. 

You hum back in affirmation, and you feel Spencer's finger tips gently push one of the straps to the side. 

You're currently sitting shirtless at your kitchen island, leaning forward onto the counter as Spencer stands behind you, one of his feet placed on the outside of yours and the other behind you. The cool cream touches your skin, and you flinch a bit, the temperature contrast shocking you every time. 

(Just imagine it in your head... I literally cannot write this down right now)

It's over, and Spencer gently lets the strap move back into place, clearing his throat and awkwardly sticking out a thumbs up next to your face so you know he's done. You pull your hoodie back on, one of the ones you stole from a previous relationship. You smirk over at him, patting him on the shoulder and flopping down on your couch. 

Spence smiles and laughs, joining you on the couch as he sits next to you. It's a drastic difference from earlier, when the two of you had sat away from each other and everything had been uncomfortable. 

You decide not to think about it, instead laying your head on his thighs, something you haven't done before and hope he's okay with. He seems okay with it, however, as he smiles down at you, reaching over you to turn the tv on as his other hand resides on the top of your head. 

You feel like...

actually, you aren't sure what you feel like.

It's nice, yes, but the dramatic change in dynamics between the two of you keeps playing through in your head. Right now, you feel like you're in the company of your best friend, someone you've know forever and someone you genuinely enjoy hanging around. Which is true.

You turn onto your side, watching the tv with him. 

His hand starts brushing through your hair, his fingertips gently brushing over your scalp before trailing through your hair. Knowing he can't see your face, you stare at the table, eyes wide, as you bite down on your smile. You love it when people do this, it's one of your favorite things to do with your significant others.

After a while, you're nearly asleep on his legs. You blink rapidly, shaking yourself out of it, the rhythmic combing of his fingers lulling you back to sleep. 

You don't want to sleep right now, not while he's awake and here with you. Suddenly, an idea forms in your head, and you sit up rapidly, giving him no explanation as you gesture for him to inhabit the position you had been in. He bewilderedly obliges, moving to lay down and resting his head on your legs.

A flash of insecurity overcomes you, but it's knocked away when you feel Spencer nestle down, his hand coming up to rest on your knee in front of him. You twirl a strand of his hair around your finger, and he tenses. You nearly start apologizing, but Spencer relaxes again just as quickly, shifting to become comfortable again. You gingerly continue, and Spencer doesn't tense again, so you drag your fingers through his curls. 

Soon, you're not paying attention to the tv, only looking down at him and seeing the small curve of the corner of his mouth that becomes even more noticeable when you start on his scalp and drag your fingers through his hair. His hair is soft and dry, his curls meshing together in a way that is completely and inexplicably Spencer.

You fall asleep again at around 4 in the morning, your hand tangled up in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey babes
> 
> comment ?
> 
> pls ;0
> 
> also if I EVER grammatically mess up or something like that... PLS call me out bc I'll literally cry if I find it later on <3


	18. light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so I just read through my entire work and literally... I can't believe u guys r still here LIKE-
> 
> thank u I luv u guys sm <3
> 
> also chapter titles are HARD

You flip the page of your book, jolting a bit from a spot of turbulence. Spencer's laying his head on your lap, and your unoccupied hand is driven through his hair.

By now, the rest of the team has pretty much accepted you and Spencer's relationship.

And by relationship, you mean _friendship._ That's what you keep reminding yourself. 

After the whole gala/undercover mess and the numerous make-out sessions that went along with it, you and Spencer's tentative friendship had blossomed into something that was borderline a romantic relationship. 

I mean, sure, he sleeps at your place every night, and maybe you give each other quick kisses on the lips sometimes when you pass by, but there was nothing official, and you never kissed outside of the privacy of your homes. Some days you felt like if you didn't confront Spencer about whether or not the two of you were in a relationship that you would explode, and other days you were content just to go along with it and not ask questions.

Spencer shifts on your legs, and you feel your stomach erupt in butterflies as you swallow. The comfortable act between the two of you dissipates every time you're alone with each other, and that's when you feel like you're going to die if you aren't maintaining physical contact with Spencer at all times. 

You're flying back home after a case, one that only lasted about a day and a half. Your team had caught the unsub, and all seemed well.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
You place your keys on your counter, kicking off your shoes and grabbing Spencer by his jacket lapels as you pull him into your apartment. You're both dressed formally, having just testified in court to get a previous unsub locked up. 

Spence closes the door behind him, putting his hands on your waist and smiling down at you as the two of you slowly shuffle backwards towards your couch. 

You spin, pushing Spencer's chest down so he lays on the couch. You walk to the kitchen, hearing Spence turn on the tv behind you. 

"Which?" you call back, opening your cabinet.

"Chocolate!" Spencer yells back, already knowing what you're talking about.

You pull out a chocolate Pop-tart for Spence and a strawberry one for yourself. You pop them in the toaster, pulling out your phone and checking your calendar. Nothing else to do today. You meander about your kitchen aimlessly, waiting for your toaster to finish as your feet patter about the tile floor. 

They're finally toasted, and you put them each on a napkin, heading over to your couch and sitting between Spence's open legs. You hand his chocolate one to him, nestling your head back against his shoulder. 

He sets his tart on the cushion next to him, idly bringing a hand around to your front and tracing the lines of your collarbones as he flips through channels. He settles on one, bringing his other hand down to rest on your hip. His other hand continues to trace the shape of your collar, and you shiver, the feeling of it making you breathe erratically. 

You set your tart on the living room table, grabbing Spencer's and doing the same. You turn to face him, and his face is already tilted as he brings his lips to yours.

His hand comes up and he combs through your hair, his other resting on his favorite spot, your hip. Your hands frame his jaw, and you're straddling him, faintly thinking to yourself that breathing really isn't that important.

"y/n." Spencer says breathlessly, pulling back but keeping his hands where they were.

"Hm?" you ask, breathing through your nose for 4 counts. 

"Want to go to dinner?" Spence asks, looking up at you with a small, quirked smile. 

"You mean, like, a-" you trail off, your hands falling to the top of his shoulders.

"A date?" Spencer fills in for you, his eyebrow raising. "Considering we make out on a daily basis and I sleep in your bed every night, I figured it was about time." Spence continues with a shrug, still playing with your hair the way he knows you enjoy. He smiles, staring off to look at your hair as his hands run through it. 

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to." you answer surprisedly, smiling back hesitantly at first, then radiantly.

You giggle to yourself, something you immediately regret but that seems to amuse Spencer, and get off of him, helping him up. 

"So, what were you thinking?" you ask, breaking off a piece of pop-tart despite the offer of food hanging over your head. 

Spencer just smiles, pushing you towards your closet. "Something incredibly casual, so unless you're comfortable in that suit, slip on whatever." he says, pulling off his tie in a way that makes you quickly shut your closet door in panic. "I'll be back in a minute, I'm just going to go change into my sweatshirt, okay?" Spencer calls through the door, and you hum back in response, quickly stripping out of your suit and brushing out your hair. 

Spencer said he would be grabbing his sweatshirt, so you figure he really must have meant it when he said casual. You decide to keep your black slacks on. 

What? They're surprisingly comfortable.

You do, however, pull off your undershirt, pulling on an old, frail blue hoodie with the faded word "MICHIGAN" on it. 

You slip on your most comfortable pair of heeled boots, letting your hair fall down as you put in simple stud earrings and your usual assortment of rings. 

You walk out, only to find Spencer sitting on your couch, legs crossed as he stares intently at his phone. 

You walk up behind him, leaning over and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Hi." you say sweetly, pecking him on the top of his head before straightening up.

Spencer tilts his head back to see you, turning off his phone and sticking it in your pocket.

"Hey." he says with a smile, pulling on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "How committed are you to wearing this?" he asks, and you notice the incredibly soft-looking MIT hoodie of his draped over his arm.

You gape up at him, and he smiles a bright Spencer smile, offering it to you. You squeal excitedly, he knows how much you love it. 

You throw off your sweatshirt, causing Spencer to quickly avert his eyes respectfully, and you pull on the MIT hoodie from his outstretched hands. 

"Whoops, forgot about that. Sorry." you say, grabbing your shit and grabbing his hand.

He reassures you he's fine, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You vaguely remember thinking that you would never get to hold his hand like this again after the undercover stint, and you're glad you were wrong.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
An hour and a half later, you're nestled against him on a park bench, distractedly sipping on a milkshake as Spencer plays with your fingers. He flexes them out, tracing them and putting his palm against yours. His hands are much longer than yours, and you both laugh at the difference, his fingertips slipping over your rings. 

"These are beautiful." Spencer murmurs, twisting one of your rings.

"Mhm." you reply, looking down at your hand in his. "That one's from a girls' night out with Em and Jay." you say, and this time it's your turn to trace over his hands with your fingertips. 

Spencer grabs your hand, stopping it from moving around, and you look up at his smiling face as he continues to look at your rings. "And this one?" he asks, pointing at one of your rings that consists of two bands twisting together over and over again, like opposite waves. 

You remember Cherry, and you feel a flash of melancholy. You miss her. 

"My ex." you supply, and you can tell that Spencer recognizes your shift in tone.

He presses you closer to his side, speaking lowly and softly. He tells you facts about the park you're in, about the origin of memorial benches, the average costs, a particular species of bird, and a million other topics that have you smiling by the end. 

You stand up with Spence, intertwining both of your hands. You're nearly at the edge of the park, having thrown your empty milkshake cup away, when you stop, causing Spencer to stop as well.

You bite your lip, debating whether or not it really matters in your mind before determining to tell him.

"Spencer, I probably should've let you know before, but there's something I want to tell you about me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rlly wanna rewatch season 1 rn because that was a whole aesthetic and it was BEAUTIFUL
> 
> kind of don't like Gideon though...? Like he was low-key rude to some of the girls/new ppl but IDK maybe I'm just forgetting everything good abt him
> 
> also this chapter was so soft. I'M GOING SOFT WTF. I don't know at this point ahaaa but I love him so much it hurts


	19. I hate titles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've gone soft. There is no redemption for me. AHHH BUT I LOVE HIM
> 
> also y/n will be coming out as ~bi~ in this chapter! #relatablebecauseofEmilyPrentiss

"Thank you for telling me." he says, smiling, and he tucks your hair behind your ears.

You feel a burn in your eyes, and blink rapidly, trying to force the tears back. Despite how happy you are, you can't stop yourself as a tear falls down your cheek and you laugh shakily.

You didn't realize how important this was to you.

Spencer brushes away the tear, bringing you close into his chest. You sob, clutching onto him as he runs his fingers through your hair, over and over and over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh, that was embarrassing." you say, flopping onto the couch and into his lap.

Spencer laughs, putting aside his book for you.

"It's not. It was a big deal, and things like that tend to evoke a lot of emotions. Trust me, I know." he says, playing with your hair.

"Why, has it happened to you?" you ask, interest piqued.

"Well," Spence says, "I actually just meant that you should trust me because I know a lot of shit, but I'm sure its happened to me before.." he trails off, looking down at you with a smile.

You gape.

"Is this going to be a new thing? Because I'm not gonna lie, that's pretty hot." you say, marveling over the fact that Dr. Spencer-Fucking-Reid just said "shit."

He shrugs, a hint of a smile peeking out. "When the moment calls for it, I find that expletives seem to fit... nicer." he says, squinting a bit.

You laugh, sitting up and hitting him with a pillow. "Alright, I am definitely onboard for that then. Let it all out, Doctor." 

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Is that my new name?" he asks, grabbing the pillow out of your hands and smacking you on the forehead.

"Sure thing, Doctor." you reply, grabbing the spatula from the kitchen that you had used that morning to make pancakes. "Now watch out, or you're going to get bitch-smacked." you threaten, brandishing the spatula and coming around behind him to the back of the couch.

"I concede!" he shouts, placing the pillow on his lap and throwing his hands up.

You laugh, reaching over and hugging his shoulders from behind as you throw the spatula haphazardly onto the living room table. "All right then-" you start, before getting cut off by a pillow to the face. 

You gasp, dramatically, fighting to wrench the pillow from his surprisingly-strong grip.

"No-" Spencer struggles, pulling on the pillow. "This- is- MINE." he pulls, his skinny little arms flexing, and the pillow falls to him, leaving you to scramble after it.

After a few futile attempts, you come to the realization that _there are other pillows._

You run after one, and Spence laughs. "Took you long enough." he says, standing up now. 

You make a face at him, grabbing two. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you ready?" he asks, intertwining your hands in the elevator that you both have to yourself. 

You wince, taking a small step towards his side. "I really don't see why it should matter this much." you complain, swinging your combined hands like a petulant child. 

Spencer smiles down at you. "You know, y/n, you _really_ don't have t-" 

You squint your eyes up at him, and he laughs quietly and to himself, his hair falling over his forehead. 

"I told you I would try to get out of it, and that you were to tell me I have to." you say to him again, placing your other hand on your hip as the elevator gets closer to your floor.

"I know," Spencer says with a sad pout, "but in all ways, you really don't owe anyone-"

"uh uh uh uh" you say, placing a finger on his mouth to shush him. "I'm doing this." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ finishes informing us about the case, a bit of a nasty one at that. 

Morgan starts to get up, and you make a strangled noise. The whole team looks at you with concerned eyes, everyone except Spencer, who knows what the fuck is going on.

"Right, uh, ah." you say awkwardly, gesturing stiffly at Morgan to come back. He does, looking concerned and skeptical at the same time. 

Hotch clears his throat, ever the "get on with it" guy, and you clasp your hands together, standing up. 

"Right, so, not to- hold you guys up or anything- but I just thought," puff of breath out, "I'd tell you guys I'm bi. As in bisexual. You know the drill." you finish, giving out two awkward thumbs up. 

Everyone seems a bit shocked by the vaguely uncomfortable delivery of your news, and a beat of silence passes, but then everyone starts smiling, even Hotch. 

There's an echoing of "That's wonderful," and "Congrats!" and, from Hotch, a very serious, "Thank you for informing us." which you nearly crack up at, your nerves are going crazy.

Everyone hugs you before JJ and Em drag you to Garcia's to share the news. 

Garcia is ecstatic, bemoaning the fact that she wasn't there at the get-go. She congratulates you for, and I quote, "being the beautiful pink, blue, and purple rainbow you are."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The case is a local one, so no "wheels up in 30" this time. Nothing too scary, messed-up, or dangerous happens, but the case does last an entire 2 weeks due to the unsub laying low because of federal involvement. 

By the time the case is over, everyone is exhausted, not from the intensity of it all, but from having to go sleuthing after every minuscule clue that mostly ultimately led nowhere. 

The unsub, Georgia McClane, fucked up from the pressure, and you were able to apprehend and arrest her. 

You walk into the BAU building, the last to do so, since Hotch had asked you to stay behind for a little while and catch the local police up.

You walk out of the elevator, and immediately know something's up. For starters, no one's at their desks, and Garcia isn't in her cave. You walk into the bullpen and head quickly to the conference room, concerned when you see that all the shutters in the windows have been closed. 

You wonder if you have another case already.

Before you can reach the door, Garcia slips out, wearing a whimsical headband that reads, "congrats."

Ohh.

"Hey Pen!" you say, deciding not to bring up the headband right then.

"Hello, pet." she says, engulfing you in a hug. "So, I've been sent to inform you, we have another case. A big one. With a bunch of scary guys." Garcia rambles, nodding to herself and continuing to smile.

Her smile is what confirms your suspicions. Garcia never smiles about a case.

"Hey babygirl you're not-" Morgan says, poking his head out of the door, pausing when he sees you.

He looks at her headband, and groans, laughing. 

You laugh too, practically doubling over.

"What- what is it? No no this is a bad case, remember? Y/N?" Garcia asks worriedly, and you pull her into another hug.

"Headband." you hint, hooking your arm through hers. "I'm assuming you were sent out here to stall me?" you ask, Morgan quickly shutting the door as you hear Rossi say something loudly. 

Realization dawns on Garcia, and she groans. "Frick." she says, sighing. "Well, maybe Morgan won't spill the beans. You should act surprised, just in case." She says, taking off her headband and stuffing it into her little purse. She smiles up at you, and Morgan pokes his head out again, beckoning the two of you forward.

You walk in, smiling and gasping at the little celebratory thing they had set up. You're genuinely surprised at the set-up, it's adorable. 

More hugs ensue, and a small cake is cut to reveal the three colors of the bi flag inside. 

Spencer comes and stands by you, not holding your hand, only smiling down at you as everyone else smiles at each other and eats cake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_2 WEEKS LATER_

"Okay, what's going on?" Em asks, exasperated. "You guys were so close to the point where I was convinced you were dating, then poof! Distance. Ice, cold, distance."

JJ nods along, taking a sip of her wine. "I agree. For a while there, you had taken my helm of 'best friend of Spencer Reid,' then bam, I've got it back." she adds, grabbing a piece of garlic bread. "I mean, not that I'm upset about that, like, at all, it's just that he was comfortable with you in a way that we've never been before, and he seemed really happy about it." JJ continues, gesturing with her garlic bread. 

You make a bit of a pained face, taking a bit of your own garlic bread. "It just got weird, after a while, you know? Besides, it's not like we aren't friends anymore." you point out, taking a sip of water.

Emily makes a face at you, and JJ shakes her head. "You guys aren't even friends anymore, that's what I'm saying! You're like pacifistic coworkers at this point. All bland smiles and no contact." Emily says sadly, chewing on her fourth piece of garlic bread.

"Well, I mean, you know how Reid is with contact-" you try, quickly getting cut off with JJ.

"Mm hm, no." JJ says, placing her elbows on the Lasagna House table. "Cut the bullshit, we all know Spencer didn't give a fuck about your germs. Speaking of Spencer, are you calling him Reid now? Like Hotch? You don't want to have the relationship Spence and Hotch have, do you?" 

You recoil, shaking your head. "It's so... formal." you say with a disturbed tone, shaking out your hands.

Emily points directly at you, leaning back in her seat.

"That's exactly what you and Spence are now. Formal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played Just Dance 3&4 for two hours tonight. 
> 
> much love!


	20. I'm SORRY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BESTIES. I have no excuse.
> 
> I can't believe it's been so long and I apologize profusely.
> 
> ON ANOTHER NOTE IT'S THE LOML's BDAY TODAY SO EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER WITH ME
> 
> UPDATE: guys I started this chapter on MGG's bday and ended it on Paget's. THIS CHAPTER IS BLESSED

"I'm telling you Spence, she compared us to you and _Hotch_." you say, shaking your head as you keep your eyes wide open and trained on his.

You and Spence are playing a game, your nightly ritual. This time it's a staring contest, only the loser has to decide where to eat for dinner.

"Well, y/n, we could always just tell them we're dating." Spence replies, his eyelashes unmoving.

You feel your eyes start to burn, and you frown, letting your eyelids slip down a few millimeters. "Yeah, I know." you say with a slight whine, drumming your fingers on the table as you try to distract yourself from the pain in your eyes. "But _Hotch_ and _HR_ and oh my god _Morgan-_ "

Spence laughs, and you can see that his eyes are starting to look a little moist as well. "I've read FBI policy, and besides a few mandatory check-ins to make sure we aren't being too informal or getting distracted from work, it really isn't that bad to tell people about coworker relationships." He licks his lips, and you notice his hands clenching the edge of the table as his eyes water. "I totally see your concerns where Morgan is involved though- AHA" Spence shouts, standing up and shutting his eyes as he rubs them with the heels of his hands. 

You groan and fall back. Damn it, you lost. At least now you can avoid this conversation. You stand and walk over to Spence's side of the table, hugging him from behind as you shut your eyes and smother your face against the back of his sweater vest. 

"Fine." you say, your voice muffled against his back. "Let's get a bunch of junk at the supermarket and walk around Mae Park." you continue, and you feel Spence turn around and hug you chest-to-chest. 

He rests his head on top of yours, his tall frame allowing him to do so comfortably. "That sounds perfect." he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You lean back and look up at him, swatting his arm. 

"I can't believe I lost a staring contest. I haven't lost a staring contest since junior high, just ask Garcia. I've beaten her 20 plus times when we're bored around work." you say, squinting up at him. "Somehow, this is because of that big, wrinkled brain of yours. I just know it." you accuse, jabbing his chest with your finger.

Spence just grins, sliding around you and slipping his shoes on over his mismatched purple and green socks. You run after him, side-butting him while he's off-balanced before running to grab your purse and rings. 

Spence runs up behind you while you're slipping on your shoes and grabs you, bending down and placing a quick kiss on your cheek. You flail your arm out to hit him, letting out a small, contented hum underneath your breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hand is intertwined with his, swinging back and forth as you look over at him. "Seriously though, Spencer. They're profilers, they know something happened, they just think it was something bad." you say, walking through the park after having consumed the majority of your meal: chips, m&ms, and a nutri-grain bar. 

Spencer bites the side of his bottom lip, looking over at you and stroking his thumb over the inside of your wrist. "I know, darling. Still, I'd rather say nothing than come up with a blatant lie." he says, squeezing your hand briefly.

You look down at your hands, his so much larger than yours. You wonder what it would be like to squeeze his hand three times, to communicate to him, "I love you." You look forward again, refocusing your mind to the topic at hand. You sip at your go-gurt tube, Spence's other hand coming up to brush strands of hair out of your face. 

"You're right." you say, his thumb still making warm tracks over your skin. 

You don't say anything more on the topic. You know, no matter how much you try to ignore it, that Spencer wants to tell everyone on the team that you two are dating. Still, you can't bring yourself to tell them. You're scared, just like you always are, of how things will play out. What happens if Spencer finds out something about you that he can't deal with and- 

stop.

You take a deep breath, focusing on his hand, his thumb, the top of his sleeve that's brushing against your arm. You squeeze his hand gently, briefly, silently asking him to be patient with you. You know what you want, but you can't bring yourself to make it happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gods, y/n. Why the hell did you let me drink on a work night." Emily moans, drinking copious amounts of coffee out of a disney mug that JJ had gotten for her last year.

You raise your eyebrow at her. "Two glasses of wine isn't letting you drink, darling." you say. 

You see Spencer lean over towards you, raising an eyebrow. You frown, confused, but he just sits back up, going back to his paperwork. Thankfully, Emily doesn't notice, as she drains her coffee down to the grounds.

"Whatever. What do you think they're talking about?" Emily asks, gesturing at Hotch's office.

This morning Hotch called JJ in, and they've been in there for about 25 minutes. JJ seems to be sitting up straighter than usual, and you can see that Hotch's hands are intertwined on his desk, but the shutters obscure just about everything else.

You shrug, twirling the pen Spence had given you last year. "I don't know, but she doesn't exactly seem happy, does she?" you murmur thoughtfully, cocking your head to the side.

Emily bites her nails, watching through the shutters relentlessly. "I hope everything's alright..." she trails off, and you reach out to touch her wrist. She startles a bit and blinks, bringing her hand down to her lap and giving you a small smile. 

"I'm sure it will be." you offer, smiling reassuringly and continuing your paperwork.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer chews the inside of his mouth, his fingers tapping ever-so-slowly on the wall of which he's leaning on.

Spence had gestured you to follow him into a hallway, so you did, and now the two of you are leaning on opposite walls, looking at each other in silence. You have no idea what this is about, and you wait, focused on trying to match his tapping fingers to your own.

Spence opens his mouth briefly then shuts it, and you decide to help him along. 

"How about a staring session?" you offer, sticking your hands in your pockets.

A staring session is something Spencer made up the previous week, back when you were nervous to tell him about how you didn't want to tell the team just yet about your relationship. Again, it's a staring contest, only you have until someone blinks to talk about a subject and then you have to stop. 

Spence nods, copying you as he sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, 3. 2. 1." you count off, staring directly into Spence's eyes.

You see Spence take a deep breath, then he says a word. "Darling."

You're confused, and you show it on your face, as you try to see if he means anything deeper than just saying an endearment. 

He gestures with his hand. "Darling is mine." he makes a pained face.

You nod slowly, thinking of earlier when he had looked over at you and Emily. "Darling is for you." you smile. "Okay, darling dearest." you say with a laugh, walking over to his wall and leaning next to him.

He laughs while looking up at the ceiling, his hand finding yours. "Whatever." he murmurs playfully, intertwining your fingers.

You hum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(idk if that little chapter makes sense but basically Spence wants the term "darling" to stay between the two of you instead of you calling other people -like Emily- darling.)

JJ presents the case, her voice clipped and more professional than usual. She refuses to look at Emily, whose face is the very image of concern as she completely ignores her tablet.

After she finishes, JJ nods and walks out, Emily quickly following suit. Everyone knows something happened that morning, but Hotch only looks down at the table briefy before saying, "wheels up in 30."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Spence still sit together on the plane, only this time you both remain upright in your respective seats. Once everyone's settled, however, you feel him reach out his foot and hook his ankle around yours, and you smile distractedly down at your phone.

JJ and Em still sit across from you, but they don't speak during the entire flight. You want to ask them about it, but you wait, like everyone else (although you can tell Morgan is getting impatient). 

Just about the moment you touch down in Minnesota, Garcia informs you that the killer has struck again in North Dakota. After running a VICAP search, Garcia uncovers that the unsub has also killed in Wyoming, Michigan, and New York. 

According to Spence's timeline, the unsub has been killing his victims, disposing of them an hour's drive out, then non-stop driving till he reaches another state and another victim. He's traveling west, heading across the top of the U.S., presumably to be able to make an emergency escape into Canada, but possibly because of another agenda.

The unsub barely seems to be getting any rest, so the team quickly scouts the sites and hops on the plane, sketching up a profile on the jet. 

This continues for four days.

Four days of barely any sleep, jet-grade coffee, and JJ's hot cheetos. 

You've fallen asleep on Spence multiple times, but nobody says anything. At this point, we're all just doing our best not to collapse every time we get off and on the jet.

The weariness has broken down whatever shield JJ had around her, and her and Em start talking again, although you can tell that JJ hasn't told Emily what the talk with Hotch was about. 

Finally, _finally,_ you catch the unsub, and you personally make a face at the man who has kept you up practically non-stop for 96 hours. 

This time Spence falls asleep on you, and you rest your head on his, convinced that the bent over position he's in can _not_ be good for his spine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hotch calls everyone into the briefing room, and you get up, just about ready to quit if he says you have another case already. 

Once everyone's in the room, JJ stands up next to Hotch, clasping her hands together in front of her as she stares at the table with wide eyes. 

Emily's nails find her mouth again, and you gently grab her wrist, holding her hand in support. You have a feeling Hotch is about to tell everyone about whatever the hell it is that's going on with JJ. 

You notice Spence next to you sitting up straighter than usual, and you remember just how close he and JJ are. You hook your ankle around his, giving him a brief but supportive glance. 

"Effective immediately, JJ will be transferred to the Department of Defense." Hotch starts, and Emily's hand squeezes yours tightly. "I'm sorry." he continues, his mouth setting in a hard line. "The order went through the Director himself. I tried, but I can't stop it."

JJ continues to stare at the table, her knuckles white from the force of her grip on her hands. 

Emily's eyes are open in horror. Spencer looks like someone just kicked a puppy in front of him. Morgan's mouth is open as he stares at Hotch incredulously. Rossi looks down solemnly. Garcia gasps, her eyes watering, and you're so focused on wanting to make everyone else feel better that you aren't sure you have a reaction. You're so focused on how everyone else feels that you barely process it, instead looking at Emily, Spence, and Garcia with extreme concern.

Finally, you look up at JJ, feeling your eyes burn as you blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sincerest apologies for being away FOREVER. totally sucks.
> 
> also shoutout to wh0re4Reid34 for being an amazing friend ty for everything ily <3
> 
> ALSO ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME 223 KUDOS??? I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS I'M SO OVERJOYED RN I LOVE YOU ALL THANK U THANK U THANK U
> 
> comment por favor hehe <3

**Author's Note:**

> again, IC: @waterloodaydreams
> 
> please leave kudos if you liked!
> 
> updates every 3 days-ish!


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